LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CAL/fORNiA,  SAN  DIEGO 

LA  JOLLA,  CALIFORNIA 


{ 


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COLLECTIONS 

AND 

RECOLLECTIONS 


THE   MOST   GENIAL   OF   COMPANIONS 

JAMES     PAYN 

AT  WHOSE  SUGGESTION  THESE  PAPERS  WERE  WRITTEN 
AND   TO   WHOM    THEY   WERE    INSCRIBED 

DIED    MARCH    25,    1898 


Is  he  gone  to  a  land  of  no  laughter — 

This  man  that  made  mirth  for  us  all  ? 
Proves  Death  but  a  silence  hereafter, 

Where  the  echoes  of  earth   cannot  fall? 
Once  closed,  have  the  lips  no  more  duty? 

No  more  pleasure  the  exquisite  ears? 
Has  the  heart  done  o'erflowing  with  beauty, 
As  the  eyes  have  with  tears? 

Nay,  if  aught  be  sure,  what  can  be  surer 

Than  that  earth's  good  decays  not  with  earth? 
And  of  all  the  heart's  springs  none  are  purer 
Than  the  springs  of  the  fountains  of  mirth? 
He  that  sounds  them  has  pierced  the  heart's  hollows, 

The  places  where  tears  are  and  sleep  ; 
For  the  foam-flakes  that  dance  in  life's  shallows 
Are  wrung  from  life's  deep. 

J.   Rhoades 


\Photo  by  Elliott  &=  Fry. 


G.  W.  E.  Russell. 


Collections 

and 

Recollections 

BY 

GEORGE   W.   E.   RUSSELL 

93 


THOMAS    NELSON    &    SONS 

LONDON,   EDINBURGH,   DUBLIN 

AND   NEW  YORK 

(,By  arrangement  with  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder,  &"  Co.) 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/collectionsandreOOrussiala 


PREFACE. 


It  has  been  suggested  by  Mr.  Reginald  Smith,  to  whose 
friendliness  and  skill  the  fortunes  of  this  book  have  been  so 
greatly  indebted,  that  a  rather  fuller  preface  might  be  suitably 
prefixed  to  this  Edition. 

When  the  book  first  appeared,  it  was  stated  on  the  title- 
page  to  be  written  "by  One  who  has  kept  a  Diary."  My 
claim  to  that  modest  title  will  scarcely  be  challenged  by  even 
the  most  carping  critic  who  is  conversant  with  the  facts.  On 
August  13,  1865,  being  then  twelve  years  old,  I  began  my 
Diary.  Several  attempts  at  diary-keeping  I  had  already 
made  and  abandoned.  This  more  serious  endeavour  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  a  young  lady  gave  me  a  manuscript-book 
attractively  bound  in  scarlet  leather ;  and  such  a  gift  inspired 
a  resolution  to  live  up  to  it.  Shall  I  be  deemed  to  lift  the  veil 
of  private  life  too  roughly  if  I  transcribe  some  early  entries  ? 
"  23rd  :  Dear  Kate  came  ;  very  nice."  "  25th  :  Kate  is  very 
delightful."     "  26th  :  Kate  is  a  darling  girl.     She  kissed  me." 

Before  long,  Love's  young  dream  was  dispersed  by  the 
realities  of  Harrow ;  but  the  scarlet  book  continued  to  receive 
my  daily  confidences.  Soon — alas  for  puerile  fickleness  ! — 
the  name  of  "  Kate  "  disappears,  and  is  replaced  by  rougher 
appellations,  such  as  *'  Bob  "  and  "  Charlie ; "  "  Carrots  " 
this,  and  "  Chaw  "  that.     To  Harrow  succeeds  Oxford,  and 


vi  PREFACE. 

now  more  recognizable  names  begin  to  appear — "  Liddon  " 
and  "  Holland,"  "  Gore  "  and  "  Milner,"  and  "  Lymington." 

But  through  all  these  personal  permutations  the  con- 
tinuous Life  of  the  Diary  remained  unbroken,  and  so  remains 
even  to  the  present  date.  Not  a  day  is  missing.  When  I 
have  been  laid  low  by  any  of  the  rather  numerous  ills  to 
which,  if  to  little  else,  my  flesh  has  been  heir,  I  have  always 
been  able  to  jot  down  such  pregnant  entries  as  "Tempera- 
ture 102°;"  "Salicine;"  "  Boiled  Chicken  ; "  "Bath  Chair." 
It  is  many  a  year  since  the  scarlet  book  was  laid  aside ;  but 
it  has  had  a  long  line  of  successors ;  and  together  they 
contain  the  record  of  what  I  have  been,  done,  seen,  and 
heard  during  thirty -eight  years  of  chequered  existence. 
Entertaining  a  strong  and  well-founded  suspicion  that  Pos- 
terity would  burn  these  precious  volumes  unread,  I  was 
moved,  some  few  years  ago,  to  compress  into  small  compass 
the  little  that  seemed  worth  remembering.  At  that  time 
my  friend  Mr.  James  Payn  was  already  confined  to  the 
house  by  the  beginnings  of  what  proved  to  be  his  last  illness. 
His  host  of  friends  did  what  they  could  to  relieve  the  tedium 
of  his  suffering  days ;  and  the  only  contribution  which  I 
could  make  was  to  tell  him  at  my  weekly  visits  anything 
interesting  or  amusing  which  I  collected  from  the  reperusal 
of  my  diary.  Greatly  to  my  surprise,  he  urged  me  to  make 
these  "  Collections  "  into  a  book,  and  to  add  to  them  what- 
ever "Recollections"  they  might  suggest.  Acting  on  this 
advice,  I  published  during  the  year  1897  a  series  of  weekly 
papers  in  the  Manchester  Guardian.  They  were  received 
more  kindly  than  I  had  any  right  to  expect;  and  early  in 
1898  I  reproduced  them  in  the  present  volume — ^just  too 
late  to  offer  it,  except  in  memory,  to  dear  James  Payn, 

The  fortunes  of  the  book,  from  that  time  till  now,  would 
not  interest  the  public,  but  are  extremely  interesting  to  me. 
The  book  brought  me  many  friends.  One  story,  at  any  rate, 
elicited  the  gracious  laughter  of  Queen  Victoria.     A  pauper 


PREFACE.  vii 

who  had  known  better  days  wrote  to  thank  me  for  enlivening 
the  monotony  of  a  workhouse  infirmary.  Literary  clerks 
plied  me  with  questions  about  the  sources  of  my  quotations. 
A  Scotch  doctor  demurred  to  the  prayer — "Water  that 
spark"* — on  the  ground  that  the  water  would  put  the 
spark  out.  Elderly  clergymen  in  country  parsonages  revived 
the  rollicking  memories  of  their  undergraduate  days,  and 
sent  me  academic  quips  of  the  forties  and  fifties.  From  the 
most  various  quarters  I  received  suggestions,  corrections, 
and  enrichments  which  have  made  each  edition  an  improve- 
ment on  the  last.  The  public  notices  were,  on  the  whole, 
extremely  kind,  and  some  were  unintentionally  amusing. 
Thus  one  editor,  putting  two  and  two  together,  calculated 
that  the  writer  could  not  be  less  than  eighty  years  old ;  while 
another,  like  Mrs.  Prig,  "didn't  believe  there  was  no  sich 
a  person,"  and  acutely  divined  that  the  book  was  a  journal- 
istic squib  directed  against  my  amiable  garrulity.  The  most 
pleasing  notice  was  that  of  Jean  La  Frette,  some  extracts 
from  which  I  venture  to  append.  It  is  true  that  competent 
judges  have  questioned  the  accuracy  of  M.  La  Frette's  idiom, 
but  his  sentiments  are  unimpeachable.  The  necessary  cor- 
rective was  not  wanting,  for  a  weekly  journal  of  high  culture 
described  my  poor  handiwork  as  "  Snobbery  and  Snippets." 
There  was  a  boisterousness — almost  a  brutality — about  the 
phrase  which  deterred  me  from  reading  the  review ;  but  I 
am  fain  to  admit  that  there  was  a  certain  rude  justice  in  the 
implied  criticism. 

G.  W.  E.  R. 
Christmas,  igoj. 

*  See  page  305. 


CHAPTEf 

C03^T83\(iTS, 

PAGE 

I 

I. 

Links  with  the  Past 

II 

II. 

Lord  Russell  . 

18 

III. 

Lord  Shaftesbury  . 

27 

IV. 

Cardinal  Manning. 

•       39 

V. 

Lord  Houghton 

•       51 

VI. 

Religion  and  Morality. 

.       60 

VII. 

Social  Equalization 

72 

VIII. 

Social  Amelioration 

.       80 

IX. 

The  Evangelical  Influence  .       89     j 

X. 

Politics    .... 

.       98 

XI. 

Parliamentary  Oratory 

.     Ill 

XII. 

Parliamentary  Oratory 

{contd.)  120 

XIII. 

Conversation  . 

.      129 

XIV. 

Conversation  {continued) 

•     137 

XV. 

Conversation  {continued) 

•     145 

XVI. 

Conversation  {continued) 

•      152 

XVII. 

Clergymen   ^     . 

•      159 

XVIII. 

Clergymen  {continued) 

.     166 

COV^E  D^S— Continued. 


CHAPTER 

XIX.  Repartee 
XX.  Titles    .... 
XXI.  The  Queen's  Accession 


174 
188 
198 
XXII.  "Princedoms, Virtues, Powers"  208 


XXIII.  Lord  Beaconsfield 

XXIV.  Flatterers  and  Bores 
XXV.  Advertisements     . 

XXVI.  Parodies  in  Prose 
XXVII.  Parodies  in  Verse 
XXVIII.  Parodies  in  Verse  (continued) 
XXIX.  Verbal  Infelicities 
XXX.  The  Art  of  Putting  Things 
XXXI.  Children 
XXXII.  Letter-writing 

XXXIII.  Officialdom  . 

XXXIV.  An  Old  Photograph-Book 
INDEX 


^^ 


215 

224 
231 
240 

251 
264 

278 
295 
305 
313 
324 
342 
375 


COLLECTIONS    AND 
RECOLLECTIONS. 


I. 

LINKS   WITH   THE    PAST. 

OF  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Disraeli  her  husband  is  reported 
to  have  said,  "  She  is  an  excellent  creature,  but  she 
never  can  remember  which  came  first,  the  Greeks  or  the 
Romans."  In  my  walk  through  life  I  have  constantly 
found  myself  among  excellent  creatures  of  this  sort. 
The  world  is  full  of  vague  people,  and  in  the  average 
man,  and  still  more  in  the  average  woman,  the  chrono- 
logical sense  seems  to  be  entirely  wanting.  Thus,  when 
I  have  occasionally  stated  in  a  mixed  company  that  my 
first  distinct  recollection  was  the  burning  of  Covent  Garden 
Theatre,  I  have  seen  a  general  expression  of  surprised 
interest,  and  have  been  told,  in  a  tone  meant  to  be  kind 
and  complimentary,  that  my  hearers  would  hardly  have 
thought  that  my  memory  went  back  so  far.  The  explana- 
tion has  been  that  these  excellent  creatures  had  some 
vague  notions  of  Rejected  Addresses  floating  in  their  minds, 
and  confounded  the  burning  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre  in 
1856  with  that  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre  in   1809.     It  was 


12       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

pleasant  to  feel  that  one  bore  one's  years  so  well  as  to  make 
the  error  possible. 

But  events,  however  striking,  are  only  landmarks  in 
memory.  They  are  isolated  and  detached,  and  begin  and 
end  in  themselves.  The  real  interest  of  one's  early  life 
is  in  its  Links  with  the  Past,  through  the  old  people  whom 
one  has  known.  Though  I  place  my  first  distinct  recol- 
lection in  1856,  I  have  memories  more  or  less  hazy  of  an 
earlier  date. 

There  was  an  old  Lady  Robert  Seymour,  who  lived  in 
Portland  Place,  and  died  there  in  1855,  in  her  ninety-first 
year.  Probably  she  is  my  most  direct  link  with  the  past, 
for  she  carried  down  to  the  time  of  the  Crimean  War  the 
habits  and  phraseology  of  Queen  Charlotte's  early  Court. 
"  Goold "  of  course  she  said  for  gold,  and  "  yaller "  for 
yellow,  and  "  laylock  "  for  lilac.  She  laid  the  stress  on  the 
second  syllable  of  "balcony."  She  called  her  maid  her 
"  'ooman ; "  instead  of  sleeping  at  a  place,  she  "  lay  "  there, 
and  when  she  consulted  the  doctor  she  spoke  of  having 
"  used  the  'potticary." 

There  still  lives,  in  full  possession  of  all  her  faculties,  a 
venerable  lady  who  can  say  that  her  husband  was  born  at 
Boston  when  America  was  a  British  dependency.  This  is 
the  widow  of  Lord  Chancellor  Lyndhurst,  who  was  born 
in  1772,  and  helped  to  defeat  Mr  Gladstone's  Paper  Bill 
in  the  House  of  Lords  on  his  eighty-eighth  birthday.  He 
died  in  1862.* 

A  conspicuous  figure  in  my  early  recollections  is  Sir 
Henry  Holland,  M.D.,  father  of  the  present  Lord  Knutsford. 
He  was  born  in  1788,  and  died  in  1873.  The  stories 
of  his  superhuman  vigour  and  activity  would  fill  a  volume. 
In  1863  Bishop  Wilberforce  wrote  to  a  friend  abroad  :  "  Sir 
Henry  Holland,  who  got  back  safe  from  all  his  American 
rambles,  has  been  taken  by  Palmerston  through  the  river  at 
*  Lady  Lyndhurst  died  in  1901, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        13 

Broadlands,  and  lies  very  ill."  However,  he  completely 
threw  off  the  effects  of  this  mischance,  and  survived  his 
aquaceous  host  for  some  eight  years.  I  well  remember  his 
telling  me  in  1868  that  his  first  famous  patient  was  the 
mysterious  "Pamela,"  who  became  the  wife  of  the  Irish 
patriot,  Lord  Edward  FitzGerald. 

Every  one  who  went  about  in  London  in  the  'seventies 
will  remember  the  dyed  locks  and  crimson  velvet  waistcoat 
of  William,  fifth  Earl  Bathurst,  who  was  born  in  1791  and 
died  in  1878.  He  told  me  that  he  was  at  a  private  school 
at  Sunbury-on-Thames  with  William  and  John  Russell, 
the  latter  of  whom  became  the  author  of  the  Reform  Bill 
and  Prime  Minister.  At  this  delightful  seminary,  the  peers' 
sons,  including  my  informant,  who  was  then  the  Hon. 
William  Bathurst,  had  a  bench  to  themselves.  William  and 
John  Russell  were  not  peers'  sons,  as  their  father  had  not 
then  succeeded  to  the  Dukedom  of  Bedford.  In  1802  he  suc- 
ceeded, on  the  sudden  death  of  his  elder  brother,  and 
became  sixth  Duke  of  Bedford;  and  his  sons,  becoming 
Lord  William  and  Lord  John,  were  duly  promoted  to  the 
privileged  bench.  Nothing  in  Pelham  or  Vivian  Grey  quite 
equals  this. 

When  I  went  to  Harrow,  in  1868,  there  was  an  old 
woman,  by  name  Polly  Arnold,  still  keeping  a  stationer's 
shop  in  the  town,  who  had  sold  cribs  to  Byron  when  he 
was  a  Harrow  boy ;  and  Byron's  fag,  a  funny  old  gentleman 
in  a  brown  wig — called  Baron  Heath — was  a  standing  dish 
on  our  school  Speech-Day. 

Once  at  a  London  dinner  I  happened  to  say  in  the  hearing 
of  Mrs.  Procter  (widow  of  "Barry  Cornwall,"  and  mother 
of  the  poetess)  that  I  was  going  next  day  to  the  Harrow 
Speeches.  "Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Procter,  "that  used  to  be  a 
pleasant  outing.  The  last  time  I  went  I  drove  down  with 
Lord  Byron  and  Dr  Parr,  who  had  been  breakfasting  with 
my  father."     Mrs.  Procter  died  in  1888. 


T4       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Among  the  remarkable  women  of  our  time,  if  merely  in 
respect  of  longevity,  must  be  reckoned  Lady  Louisa  Stuart, 
sister  and  heir  of  the  last  Earl  of  Traquair.  She  was  a 
friend  and  correspondent  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  in 
describing  "  TuUy  Veolan  "  drew  Traquair  House  ■  with 
literal  exactness,  even  down  to  the  rampant  bears  which 
still  guard  the  locked  entrance-gates  against  all  comers 
until  the  Royal  Stuarts  shall  return  to  claim  their  own. 
Lady  Louisa  Stuart  lived  to  be  ninety-nine,  and  died  in 
1876. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  old  lady  whom  I  knew 
intimately  was  Carolinfe  Lowther,  Duchess  of  Cleveland, 
who  was  born  in  1792  and  died  in  1883.  She  had  been 
presented  to  Queen  Charlotte  when  there  were  only  forty 
people  at  th^  Drawing-room,  had  danced  with  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  and  had  attended  the  "  breakfasts "  given  by 
Albinia  Countess  of  Buckinghamshire  (who  died  in  1816), 
at  her  villa  just  outside  London.  The  site  of  that  villa  is 
now  Hobart  Place,  having  taken  its  name  from  that  of  the 
Buckinghamshire  family.  The  trees  of  its  orchard  are  still 
discoverable  in  the  back-gardens  of  Hobart  Place  and 
Wilton  Street,  and  I  am  looking  out  upon  them  as  I  write 
this  page. 

Stories  of  highwaymen  are  excellent  Links  with  the  Past, 
and  here  is  one.  The  fifth  Earl  of  Berkeley,  who  died  in 
18 10,  had  always  declared  that  any  one  might  without  dis- 
grace be  overcome  by  superior  numbers,  but  that  he  would 
never  surrender  to  a  single  highwayman.  As  he  was 
crossing  Hounslow  Heath  one  night,  on  his  way  from 
Berkeley  Castle  to  London,  his  travelling  carriage  was 
stopped  by  a  man  on  horseback,  who  put  his  head  in  at 
the  window  and  said,  "  I  believe  you  are  Lord  Berkeley  ?  " 
"  I  am."  "  I  believe  you  have  always  boasted  that  you 
would  never  surrender  to  a  single  highwayman  ? "  "I 
have."     "  Well,"  presenting  a  pistol,  "  I  am  a  single  high- 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        15 

wayman,  and  I  say,  '  Your  money  or  your  life.'  "  "  You 
cowardly  dog,"  said  Lord  Berkeley,  "  do  you  think  I  can't 
see  your  confederate  skulking  behind  you  ? "  The  high- 
wayman, who  was  really  alone,  looked  hurriedly  round,  and 
Lord  Berkeley  shot  him  through  the  head.  I  asked  Lady 
Caroline  Maxse  (1803-1886),  who  was  born  a  Berkeley,  if 
this  story  was  true.  I  can  never  forget  my  thrill  when  she 
replied,  "  Yes  ;  and  I  am  proud  to  say  that  I  am  that  man's 
daughter." 

Sir  Moses   Montefiore   was  born  in   1784,  and  died  in 

1885.  It  is  a  disheartening  fact  for  the  teetotallers  that  he 
had  drunk  a  bottle  of  port  wine  every  day  since  he  grew  up. 
He  had  dined  with  Lord  Nelson  on  board  his  ship,  and 
vividly  remembered  the  transcendent  beauty  of  Lady 
Hamilton.  The  last  time  Sir  Moses  appeared  in  public 
was,  if  I  mistake  not,  at  a  garden-party  at  Marlborough 
House.  The  party  was  given  on  a  Saturday.  Sir  Moses 
was  restrained  by  religious  scruples  from  using  his  horses, 
and  was  of  course  too  feeble  to  walk,  so  he  was  conveyed 
to  the  party  in  a  magnificent  sedan-chair.  That  was  the 
only  occasion  on  which  I  have  seen  such  an  article  in  use. 

^Yhen  I  began  to  go  out  in  London,  a  conspicuous  figure 
in  dinner-society  and  on  Protestant  platforms  was  Captain 
Francis  Maude,  R.N.     He  was  born  in  1798  and  died  in 

1886.  He  used  to  say,  *'  My  grandfather  was  nine  years  old 
when  Charles  II.  died."  And  so,  if  pedigrees  may  be 
trusted,  he  was.  Charles  II.  died  in  1685.  Sir  Robert 
Maude  was  born  in  1676.  His  son,  the  first  Lord  Hawarden, 
was  born  in  1727,  and  Captain  Francis  Maude  was  this  Lord 
Ha  warden's  youngest  son.  The  year  of  his  death  (1880)  saw 
also  that  of  a  truly  venerable  woman,  Mrs.  Hodgson,  mother 
of  Kirkman  and  Stewart  Hodgson,  the  well-known  partners 
in  Barings'  house.  Her  age  was  not  precisely  known,  but 
when  a  schoolgirl  in  Paris  she  had  seen  Robespierre  executed, 
and  distinctly  recollected  the  appearance  of  his  bandaged 


i6       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

face.  Her  granddaughters,  Mr.  Stewart  Hodgson's  children, 
are  quite  young  women,  and  if  they  live  to  the  age  which, 
with  such  ancestry,  they  are  entitled  to  anticipate,  they 
will  carry  down  into  the  middle  of  the  twentieth  century 
the  account,  derived  from  an  eye-witness,  of  the  central 
event  of  the  French  Revolution. 

One  year  later,  in  1887,  there  died,  at  her  house  in  St. 
James's  Square,  Mrs.  Anne  Penelope  Hoare,  mother  of  the 
late  Sir  Henry  Hoare,  M.P.  She  recollected  being  at  a 
children's  party  when  the  lady  of  the  house  came  in  and 
stopped  the  dancing  because  news  had  come  that  the  King 
of  France  had  been  put  to  death.  Her  range  of  conscious 
knowledge  extended  from  the  execution  of  Louis  XVI.  to 
the  Jubilee  of  Queen  Victoria.     So  short  a  thing  is  history. 

Sir  Walter  Stirling,  who  was  born  in  1802  and  died  in 
i888,  was  a  little  old  gentleman  of  ubiquitous  activity, 
running  about  London  with  a  yellow  wig,  short  trousers, 
and  a  cotton  umbrella.  I  well  remember  his  saying  to  me, 
when  Mr  Bradlaugh  was  committed  to  the  Clock  Tower, 
"  I  don't  like  this.  I  am  afraid  it  will  mean  mischief.  I 
am  old  enough  to  remember  seeing  Sir  Francis  Burdett 
taken  to  the  Tower  by  the  Sergeant-at-Arms  with  a  military 
force.  I  saw  the  riot  then,  and  I  am  afraid  I  shall  see  a 
riot  again." 

In  the  same  year  (1888)  died  Mrs.  Thomson  Hankey, 
wife  of  a  former  M.P.  for  Peterborough.  Her  father,  a 
Mr.  Alexander,  was  born  in  1729,  and  she  had  inherited 
from  him  traditions  of  London  as  it  appeared  to  a  young 
Scotsman  in  the  year  of  the  decapitation  of  the  rebels  after 
the  rising  of  1745. 

One  of  the  most  venerable  and  interesting  figures  in 
London,  down  to  his  death  in  1891,  was  George  Thomas, 
sixth  Earl  of  Albemarle.  He  was  born  in  1799.  He  had 
played  bat-trap-and-ball  at  St.  Anne's  Hill  with  Mr.  Fox,  and, 
excepting  his  old  comrade  General  Whichcote,  who  outlived 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        17 

him  by  a  few  months,  was  the  last  survivor  of  Waterloo, 
A  man  whom  I  knew  longer  and  more  intimately  than  any 
of  those  whom  I  have  described  was  the  late  Lord  Charles 
James  Fox  Russell.  He  was  born  in  1807,  and  died  in 
1894.  His  father's  groom  had  led  the  uproar  of  London 
servants  which  in  the  eighteenth  century  damned  the  play 
High  Life  Below  Stairs.  He  remembered  a  Highlander 
who  had  followed  the  army  of  Prince  Charles  Edward  in 
1745,  and  had  learned  from  another  Highlander  the 
Jacobite  soldiers'  song — 

"  I  would  I  were  at  Manchester, 
A-sitting  on  the  grass, 
And  by  my  side  a  bottle  of  wine. 
And  on  my  lap  a  lass." 

He  had  officiated  as  a  page  at  the  coronation  of  George 
IV.  ;  had  conversed  with  Sir  Walter  Scott  about  The  Bride 
of  LammerTnoor  before  its  authorship  was  disclosed  ;  had 
served  in  the  Blues  under  Ernest  Duke  of  Cumberland  ; 
and  had  lost  his  way  in  trying  to  find  the  newly  developed 
quarter  of  London  called  Belgrave  Square. 

Among   living  *   links,    I    hope    it   is    not    ungallant    to 
enumerate  Lady  Georgiana  Grey,  only  surviving  child  of 

"That  Earl,  who  forced  his  compeers  to  be  just. 
And  wrought  in  brave  old  age  what  youth  had  planned  ; " 

Lady  Louisa  Tighe,  who  as  Lady  Louisa  Lennox  buckled 
the  Duke  of  Wellington's  sword  when  he  set  out  from  her 
mother's  ball  at  Brussels  for  the  field  of  Waterloo  ;  and 
Miss  Eliza  Smith  of  Brighton,  the  vivacious  and  evergreen 
daughter  of  Horace  Smith,  who  wrote  the  Rejected  Addresses. 
But  these  admirable  and  accomplished  ladies  hate  garrulity, 
and  the  mere  mention  of  their  names  is  a  signal  to  bring 
these  disjointed  reminiscences  to  a  close. 

*"  Living"  alas!  no  longer.      The  last  survivor  of  these  ladies  died 
this  year,  1903. 


II. 

LORD  RUSSELL. 

'"pHESE  chapters  are  founded  on  Links  with  the  Past, 
-*-  Let  me  now  describe  in  rather  fuller  detail  three  or  four 
remarkable  people  with  whom  I  had  more  than  a  cursory 
acquaintance,  and  who  allowed  me  for  many  years  the  privi- 
lege of  drawing  without  restriction  on  the  rich  stores  of 
their  political  and  social  recollections. 

First  among  these  in  point  of  date,  if  of  nothing  else,  I 
must  place  John  Earl  Russell,  the  only  person  I  have  ever 
known  who  knew  Napoleon  the  Great.  Lord  Russell — or, 
to  give  him  the  name  by  which  he  was  most  familiar  to  his 
countrymen,  Lord  John  Russell — was  born  in  1792,  and 
when  I  first  knew  him  he  was  already  old ;  but  it  might 
have  been  said  of  him  with  perfect  truth  that 

"Votiva  patuit  veluti  descripta  tabella 
Vita  senis." 

After  he  resigned  the  leadership  of  the  Liberal  party,  at 
Christmas  1867,  Lord  Russell  spent  the  greater  part  of  his 
time  at  Pembroke  Lodge,  a  house  in  Richmond  Park  which 
takes  its  name  from  Elizabeth  Countess  of  Pembroke,  long 
remembered  as  the  object  of  King  George  the  Third's 
hopeless  and  pathetic  love.  As  a  token  of  his  affection  the 
King  allowed  Lady  Pembroke  to  build  herself  a  "lodge" 
in  the   "vast  wilderness"  of  Richmond  Park,   amid  sur- 


'  COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.         19 

roundings  which  went  far  to  realize  Cowper's  idea  of  a 
"  boundless  contiguity  of  shade." 

On  her  death,  in  1831,  Pembroke  Lodge  was  assigned  by 
William  IV.  to  his  son-in-law,  Lord  Erroll,  and  in  1847  it 
was  offered  by  the  Queen  to  her  Prime  Minister,  Lord  John 
Russell,  who  then  had  no  home  except  his  house  in 
Chesham  Place.  It  was  gratefully  accepted,  for  indeed  it 
had  already  been  coveted  as  an  ideal  residence  for  a  busy 
politician  who  wanted  fresh  air,  and  could  not  safely  be  far 
from  the  House  of  Commons.  As  years  went  on  Lord  John 
spent  more  and  more  of  his  time  in  this  delicious  retreat, 
I     and  in  his  declining  years  it  was  practically  bis  only  home. 

A  quarter  of  a  century  ago  it  was  a  curious  and  interest- 
ing privilege  for  a  young  man  to  sit  in  the  trellised  dining- 
room  of  Pembroke  Lodge,  or  to  pace  its  terrace-walk 
looking  down  upon  the  Thames,  in  intimate  converse  with 
a  statesman  who  had  enjoyed  the  genial  society  of  Charles 
Fox,  and  had  been  the  travelling  companion  of  Lord 
Holland ;  had  corresponded  with  Tom  Moore,  debated 
with  Francis  Jeffrey,  and  dined  with  Dr.  Parr ;  had  visited 
Melrose  Abbey  in  the  company  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and 
criticized  the  acting  of  Mrs.  Siddons ;  conversed  with 
Napoleon  in  his  seclusion  at  Elba,  and  ridden  with  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  along  the  lines  of  Torres  Vedras. 

The  genius  of  John  Leech,  constantly  exercised  on  the 
subject  for  twenty  years,  has  made  all  students  of  Punch 
familiar  with  Lord  John  Russell's  outward  aspect.  We 
know  from  his  boyish  diary  that  on  his  eleventh  birthday 
he  was  "  4  feet  2  inches  high,  and  3  stone  1 2  lb.  weight ; " 
and  though,  as  time  went  on,  these  extremely  modest 
dimensions  were  slightly  exceeded,  he  was.  an  unusually  short 
man.  His  massive  head  and  broad  shoulders  gave  him 
when  he  sate  the  appearance  of  greater  size,  and  when  he 
rose  to  his  feet  the  diminutive  stature  caused  a  feeling  of 
surprise.     Sydney   Smith  declared  that  when   Lord   John 


20   COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

first  contested  Devonshire  the  burly  electors  were  dis- 
appointed by  the  exiguity  of  their  candidate,  but  were 
satisfied  when  it  was  explained  to  them  that  he  had  once 
been  much  larger,  but  was  worn  away  by  the  anxieties  and 
struggles  of  the  Reform  Bill  of  1832.  Never  was  so  robust 
a  spirit  enshrined  in  so  fragile  a  form.  He  inherited  the 
miserable  legacy  of  congenital  weakness.  Even  in  those 
untender  days  he  was  considered  too  delicate  to  remain  at 
a  Public  School.  It  was  thought  impossible  for  him  to 
live  through  his  first  session  of  Parliament.  When  he  was 
fighting  the  Reform  Bill  through  the  House  of  Commons 
he  had  to  be  fed  with  arrowroot  by  a  benevolent  lady  who 
was  moved  to  compassion  by  his  pitiful  appearance.  For 
years  afterwards  he  was  liable  to  fainting-fits,  had  a  wretched 
digestion,  and  was  easily  upset  by  hot  rooms,  late  hours, 
and  bad  air.  These  circumstances,  combined  with  his  love 
of  domestic  life  and  his  fondness  for  the  country,  led  him 
to  spend  every  evening  that  he  could  spare  in  his  seclusion 
at  Pembroke  Lodge,  and  consequently  cut  him  off,  very 
much  to  his  political  disadvantage,  from  constant  and 
intimate  associations  with  official  colleagues  and  parlia- 
mentary supporters. 

There  were  other  characteristics  which  enhanced  this 
unfortunate  impression  of  aloofness.  His  voice  had  what 
used  to  be  described  in  satirical  writings  of  the  first  half  of 
the  century  as  "an  aristocratic  drawl,"  and  his  pronuncia- 
tion was  archaic.  Like  other  high-bred  people  of  his  time, 
he  talked  of  "cowcumbers"  and  "laylocks,"  called  a 
woman  an  "  'ooman,"  and  was  "  much  obleeged  "  where  a 
degenerate  age  is  content  to  be  obliged.  The  frigidity  of 
his  address  and  the  seeming  stiffness  of  his  manner,  due 
really  to  an  innate  and  incurable  shyness,  produced  even 
among  people  who  ought  to  have  known  him  well  a  totally 
erroneous  notion  of  his  character  and  temperament.  To 
Bulwer  Lytton  he  seemed — 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   21 

"  How  formed  to  lead,  if  not  too  proud  to  please  ! 
His  fame  would  fire  you,  but  his  manners  freeze. 
Like  or  dislike,  he  does  not  care  a  jot ; 
He  wants  your  vote,  but  your  affections  not ; 
Yet  human  hearts  need  sun  as  well  as  oats — 
So  cold  a  climate  plays  the  deuce  with  votes." 

It  must  be  admitted  that  in  some  of  the  small  social  arts 
which  are  so  valuable  an  equipment  for  a  political  leader 
Lord  John  was  funnily  deficient.  He  had  no  memory  for 
faces,  and  was  painfully  apt  to  ignore  his  political  followers 
when  he  met  them  beyond  the  walls  of  Parliament,  Once, 
staying  in  a  Scotch  country-house,  he  found  himself  thrown 

with  young  Lord  D ,  now  Earl  of  S .     He  liked  the 

young  man's  conversation,  and  was  pleased  to  find  that  he 
was  a  Whig.  When  the  party  broke  up.  Lord  John 
conquered  his  shyness  sufficiently  to  say  to  his  new  friend, 

"Well,  Lord  D ,  I  am  very  glad  to  have  made  your 

acquaintance,  and  now  you  must  come  into  the  House  of 
Commons  and  support  me  there."  "  I  have  been  doing 
that  for  the  last  ten  years.  Lord  John,"  was  the  reply  of  the 
gratified  follower. 

This  inability  to  remember  faces  was  allied  in  Lord  John 
with  a  curious  artlessness  of  disposition  which  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  feign  a  cordiality  he  did  not  feel. 
Once,  at  a  concert  at  Buckingham  Palace,  he  was  seen 
to  get  up  suddenly,  turn  his  back  on  the  Duchess  of 
Sutherland,  by  whom  he  had  been  sitting,  walk  to  the 
remotest  part  of  the  room,  and  sit  down  by  the  Duchess 
of  Inverness.  When  questioned  afterwards  as  to  the  cause 
of  his  unceremonious  move,  which  had  the  look  of  a 
quarrel,  he  said,  "  I  could  not  have  sate  any  longer  by 
that  great  fire  ;  I  should  have  fainted." 

"  Oh,  that  was  a  very  good  reason  for  moving  ;  but  I 
hope  you  told  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland  why  you  left  her." 

"  Well— no ;  I  don't  think  I  did  that.  But  I  told  the 
Duchess  of  Inverness  why  I  came  and  sate  by  her  ! " 


22       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Thus  were  opportunities  of  paying  harmless  compliments 
recklessly  thrown  away. 

It  was  once  remarked  by  a  competent  critic  that  "  there 
have  been  Ministers  who  knew  the  springs  of  that  public 
opinion  which  is  delivered  ready  digested  to  the  nation 
every  morning,  and  who  have  not  scrupled  to  work  them 
for  their  own  diurnal  glorification,  even  although  the  recoil 
might  injure  their  colleagues.  But  Lord  Russell  has  never 
bowed  the  knee  to  the  potentates  of  the  Press ;  he  has 
offered  no  sacrifice  of  invitations  to  social  editors ;  and 
social  editors  have  accordingly  failed  to  discover  the  merits 
of  a  statesman  who  so  little  appreciated  them,  until  they 
have  almost  made  the  nation  forget  the  services  that  Lord 
Russell  has  so  faithfully  and  courageously  rendered." 

Be  this  as  it  may,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  old  Whig 
statesman  lacked  those  gifts  or  arts  which  make  a  man 
widely  popular  in  a  large  society  of  superficial  acquaint- 
ances. On  his  deathbed  he  said  with  touching  pathos, 
*'  I  have  seemed  cold  to  my  friends,  but  it  was  not  in  my 
heart."  The  friends  needed  no  such  assurance.  He  was 
the  idol  of  those  who  were  most  closely  associated  with 
him  by  the  ties  of  blood  or  duty.  Even  to  people  outside 
the  innermost  circle  of  intimacy  there  was  something 
peculiarly  attractive  in  his  singular  mixture  of  gentleness 
and  dignity.  He  excelled  as  a  host,  doing  the  honours  of 
his  table  with  the  old-fashioned  grace  which  he  had  learned 
at  Woburn  Abbey  and  at  Holland  House  when  the  century 
was  young;  and  in  the  charm  of  hi's  conversation  he  was 
not  easily  equalled — never,  in  my  experience,  surpassed. 
He  had  the  happy  knack  of  expressing  a  judgment  which 
might  be  antagonistic  to  the  sentiments  of  those  with 
whom  he  was  dealing  in  language  which,  while  perfectly 
void  of  offence,  was  calmly  decisive.  His  reply  to  Sir 
Francis  Burdett  was  pronounced  by  Mr.  Gladstone  to  be 
the  best  repartee  ever  made  in   Parliament.     Sir  Francia. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.       23 

an  ex-Radical,  attacking  his  former  associates  with  all  the 
bitterness  of  a  renegade,  had  said,  "The  most  offensive 
thing  in  the  world  is  the  cant  of  Patriotism."  Lord  John 
replied,  "  I  quite  agree  that  the  cant  of  Patriotism  is  a 
very  offensive  thing ;  but  the  recant  of  Patriotism  is  more 
offensive  still."  His  letter  to  the  Dean  of  Hereford  about 
the  election  of  Bishop  Hampden  is  a  classical  instance  of 
courteous  controversy.  Once  a  most  Illustrious  Personage 
asked  him  if  it  was  true  that  he  taught  that  under  certain 
circumstances  it  was  lawful  for  a  subject  to  disobey  the 
Sovereign.  "Well,  speaking  to  a  Sovereign  of  the  House 
of  Hanover,  I  can  only  answer  in  the  affirmative." 

His  copiousness  of  anecdote  was  inexhaustible.  His 
stories  always  fitted  the  point,  and  the  droll  gravity  of 
his  way  of  telling  them  added  greatly  to  their  zest.  Of  his 
conversation  with  Napoleon  at  Elba  I  recollect  one  curious 
question  and  answer.  The  Emperor  took  the  little 
Englishman  by  the  ear  and  asked  him  what  was  thought 
in  England-  of  his  chances  of  returning  to  the  throne  of 
France.  "  I  said,  '  Sire,  they  think  you  have  no  chance  at 
all.' "  The  Emperor  said  that  the  English  Government  had 
made  a  great  mistake  in  sending  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
to  Paris — "  On  n'aime  pas  voir  un  homme  par  qui  on  a  ete 
battu  ; "  and  on  War  he  made  this  characteristic  comment : 
"  Eh  bien,  c'est  un  grand  jeu — belle  occupation." 

This  interview  took  place  when  Lord  John  was  making 
a  tour  with  Lord  and  Lady  Holland,  and  much  of  his 
earlier  life  had  been  spent  at  Holland  House,  in  the  heart 
of  that  brilliant  society  which  Macaulay  so  picturesquely 
described,  and  in  which  Luttrell  and  Samuel  Rogers  were 
conspicuous  figures.  Their  conversation  supplied  Lord 
John  with  an  anecdote  which  he  used  to  bring  out,  with  a 
twinkling  eye  and  a  chuckling  laugh,  whenever  he  heard 
that  any  public  reform  was  regarded  with  misgiving  by 
sensible   men.     Luttrell   and   Rogers   were   passing   in    a 


24       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

wherry  under  old  London  Bridge  when  its  destruction  was 
contemplated,  and  Rogers  said,  "Some  very  sensible  men 
think  that,  if  these  works  are  carried  into  effect,  the  tide 
will  flow  so  rapidly  under  the  bridge  that  dangerous  con- 
sequences will  follow."  "  My  dear  Rogers,"  answered 
Luttrell,  "  if  some  very  sensible  men  had  been  attended  to, 
we  should  still  be  eating  acorns." 

Of  William  and  John  Scott,  afterwards  Lord  Stowell  and 
Lord  Eldon,  Lord  Russell  used  to  tell  with  infinite  zest  a 
story  which  he  declared  to  be  highly  characteristic  of  the 
methods  by  which  they  made  their  fortunes  and  position. 
When  they  were  young  men  at  the  Bar,  having  had  a 
stroke  of  professional  luck,  they  determined  to  celebrate 
the  occasion  by  having  a  dinner  at  a  tavern  and  going  to 
the  play.  When  it  was  time  to  call  for  the  reckoning, 
William  Scott  dropped  a  guinea.  He  and  his  brother 
searched  for  it  in  vain,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
had  fallen  between  the  boards  of  the  uncarpeted  floor. 

"This  is  a  bad  job,"  said  William;  "we  must  give  up 
the  play." 

"Stop  a  bit,"  said  John;  "I  know  a  trick  worth  two  of 
that,"  and  called  the  waitress. 

"Betty,"  said  he,  "we've  dropped  two  guineas.  See  if 
you  can  find  them."  Betty  went  down  on  her  hands  and 
knees,  and  found  the  one  guinea,  which  had  rolled  under 
the  fender. 

"That's  a  very  good  girl,  Betty,''  said  John  Scott, 
pocketing  the  coin ;  "  and  when  you  find  the  other  you 
can  keep  it  for  your  trouble."  And  the  prudent  brothers 
went  with  a  light  heart  to  the  play,  and  so  eventually  to 
the  Bench  and  the  Woolsack. 

In  spite  of  profound  differences  of  political  opinion, 
Lord  Russell  had  a  high  regard  for  the  memory  of  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  and  had  been  much  in  his  society  in  early 
life.     Travelling  in  the  Peninsula  in  1812,  he  visited  Lord 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   25 

Wellington  at  his  headquarters  near  Burgos.  On  the 
morning  after  his  arrival  he  rode  out  with  his  host  and  an 
aide-de-camp,  and  surveyed  the  position  of  the  French 
army.     Lord  Wellington,  peering  through  his  glass,  suddenly 

exclaimed,  "  By  G !  they've  changed  their  position  !  " 

and  said  no  more. 

When  they  returned  from  their  ride,  the  aide-de-camp 
said  to  Lord  John,  "  You  had  better  get  away  as  quick  as 
you  can.  I  am  confident  that  Lord  Wellington  means  to 
make  a  move."  Lord  John  took  the  hint,  made  his  excuses, 
and  went  on  his  way.  That  evening  the  British  army  was 
in  full  retreat,  and  Lord  Russell  used  to  tell  the  story  as 
illustrating  the  old  Duke's  extreme  reticence  when  there  was 
a  chance  of  a  military  secret  leaking  out. 

Lord  Russell's  father,  the  sixth  Duke  of  Bedford,  belonged 
to  that  section  of  the  Whigs  who  thought  that,  while  a 
Whig  ministry  was  impossible,  it  was  wiser  to  support  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  whom  they  believed  to  be  a  thoroughly 
honest  man,  than  Canning,  whom  they  regarded  as  an  un- 
scrupulous adventurer.  Accordingly  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Woburn  Abbey,  and  showed  consis- 
tent friendliness  to  Lord  Russell  and  his  many  brothers,  all  of 
whom  were  full  of  anecdotes  illustrative  of  his  grim  humour 
and  robust  common  sense.    Let  a  few  of  them  be  recorded. 

The  Government  was  contemplating  the  dispatch  of  an 
expedition  to  Burma,  with  a  view  of  taking  Rangoon,  and 
a  question  arose  as  to  who  would  be  the  fittest  general  to 
be  sent  in  command  of  the  expedition.  The  Cabinet  sent 
for  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  asked  his  advice.  He 
instantly  replied,  "  Send  Lord  Comberniere," 

"  But  we  have  always  understood  that  your  Grace  thought 
Lord  Combermere  a  fool," 

"  So  he  is  a  fool,  and  a  d d  fool ;  but  he  can  take 

Rangoon." 

At  the  time  of  Queen  Caroline's  trial  the  mob  of  London 


26       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

sided  with  the  Queen,  and  the  Duke's  strong  adhesion  to 
the  King  made  him  extremely  unpopular.  Riding  up.' 
Grosvenor  Place  one  day  towards  Apsley  House,  he  was 
beset  by  a  gang  of  workmen  who  were  mending  the  road. 
They  formed  a  cordon,  shouldered  their  pickaxes,  and  swore 
they  would  not  let  the  Duke  pass  till  he  said  "  God  save  the 
Queen."  *'  Well,  gentlemen,  since  you  will  have  it  so — 
'  God  save  the  Queen,'  and  may  all  your  wives  be  like  her  !  " 

Mrs.  Arbuthnot  (wife  of  the  Duke's  private  secretary, 
familiarly  called  "  Gosh  ")  was  fond  of  parading  her  intimacy 
with  the  Duke  before  miscellaneous  company.  One  day, 
in  a  large  party,  she  said  to  him, — 

"  Duke,  I  know  you  won't  mind  my  asking  you,  but  is  it. 
true  that  you  were  surprised  at  Waterloo  ?  " 

"  By  G !  not  half  as  much  surprised  as  I  am  now, 

mum." 

When  the  Queen  came  to  the  throne  her  first  public  act 
was  to  go  in  state  to  St.  James's  Palace  to  be  proclaimed. 
She  naturally  wished  to  be  accompanied  in  her  State  coach 
only  by  the  Duchess  of  Kent  and  one  of  the  Ladies  of  the 
Household ;  but  Lord  Albemarle,  who  was  Master  of  the 
Horse,  insisted  that  he  had  a  right  to  travel  with  her  Maj- 
esty in  the  coach,  as  he  had  done  with  William  IV.  The 
point  was  submitted  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  as  a  kind 
of  universal  referee  in  matters  of  precedence  and  usage. 
His  judgment  was  delightfully  unflattering  to  the  outraged 
magnate — "  The  Queen  can  make  you  go  inside  the  coach 
or  outside  the  coach,  or  run  behind  like  a  tinker's  dog." 

And  surely  the  whole  literary  profession,  of  which  the 
present  writer  is  a  feeble  unit,  must  cherish  a  sentiment  of 
grateful  respect  for  the  memory  of  a  man  who,  in  refusing 
the  dedication  of  a  song,  informed  Mrs.  Norton  that  he 
had  been  obliged  to  make  a  rule  of  refusing  dedications, 
"  because,  in  his  situation  as  Chancellor  of  the  University 
of  Oxford,  he  had  been  much  exposed  to  authors^ 


III. 

LORD   SHAFTESBURY. 

TF  the  Christian  Socialists  ever  frame  a  Kalendar  of 
■*■  Worthies  (after  the  manner  of  Auguste  Comte),  it  is  to  be 
hoped  that  they  will  mark  among  the  most  sacred  of  their 
anniversaries  the  day — April  28,  1801 — which  gave  birth 
to  Anthony  Ashley,  seventh  Earl  of  Shaftesbury.  His  life 
of  eighty-four  years  was  consecrated,  from  boyhood  till 
death,  to  the  social  service  of  humanity ;  and,  for  my  own 
part,  I  must  always  regard  the  privilege  of  his  friendship  as 
among  the  highest  honours  of  my  life.  Let  me  try  to 
recall  some  of  the  outward  and  inward  characteristics  of  this 
truly  illustrious  man. 

Lord  Shaftesbury  was  tall  and  spare — almost  gaunt — in 
figure,  but  powerfully  framed,  and  capable  of  great  exertion. 
His  features  were  handsome  and  strongly  marked — an 
aquiline  nose  and  very  prominent  chin.  His  complexion 
was  as  pale  as  marble,  and  contrasted  effectively  with 
a  thick  crop  of  jet-black  hair  which  extreme  old  age  scarcely 
tinged  with  silver. 

When  he  first  entered  Parliament  a  contemporary  observer 
wrote  :  "  It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  more  complete 
beau-ideal  of  aristocracy.  His  whole  countenance  has  the 
coldness  as  well  as  the  grace  of  a  chiselled  one,  and  expresses 
precision,  prudence,  and  determination  in  no  common 
degree."     The  stateliness  of  bearing,  the  unbroken  figure, 


28       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

the  high  glance  of  stern  though  melancholy  resolve,  he 
retained  to  the  end.  But  the  incessant  labour  and  anxiety 
of  sixty  years  made  their  mark,  and  Sir  John  Millais's  noble 
portrait,  painfed  in  1877,  shows  a  countenance  on  which 
a  lifelong  contact  with  human  suffering  had  written  its  tale 
in  legible  characters. 

Temperament  is,  I  suppose,  hereditary.  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury's father,  who  was  for  nearly  forty  years  Chairman  of 
Committees  in  the  House  of  Lords,  was  distinguished  by  a 
strong  intellect,  an  imperious  temper,  and  a  character 
singularly  deficient  in  amiability.  His  mother  (whose 
childish  beauty  is  familiar  to  all  lovers  of  Sir  Joshua's  art 
as  the  little  girl  frightened  by  the  mask  in  the  great 
"  Marlborough  Group  ")  was  the  daughter  of  the  third  Duke 
of  Marlborough  by  that  Duchess  whom  Queen  Charlotte 
pronounced  to  be  the  proudest  woman  in  England.  It  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  from  such  a  parentage  and  such 
an  ancestry  Lord  Shaftesbury  derived  some  of  the  most 
conspicuous  features  of  his  character.  From  his  father  he 
inherited  his  keenness  of  intellect,  his  habits  of  laborious 
industry,  and  his  iron  tenacity  of  purpose.  From  his 
mother  he  may  have  acquired  that  strong  sense  of  personal 
dignity — that  intuitive  and  perhaps  unconscious  feeling  of 
what  was  due  to  his  station  as  well  as  to  his  individuality 
— which  made  his  presence  and  address  so  impressive  and 
sometimes  alarming. 

Dignity  was  indeed  the  quality  which  immediately  struck 
one  on  one's  first  encounter  with  Lord  Shaftesbury ;  and 
with  dignity  were  associated  a  marked  imperiousness  and 
an  eager  rapidity  of  thought,  utterance,  and  action.  As 
one  got  to  know  him  better,  one  began  to  realize  his 
intense  tenderness  towards  all  weakness  and  suffering ; 
his  overflowing  affection  for  those  who  stood  nearest  to 
him ;  his  almost  morbid  sensitiveness ;  his  passionate  in- 
dignation against  cruelty  or  oppression.     Now  and   then 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        29 

his  conversation  was  brightened  by  brief  and  sudden  gleams 
of  genuine  humour,  but  these  gleams  were  rare.  He  had  seen 
too  much  of  human  misery  to  be  habitually  jocose,  and  his 
whole  nature  was  underlain  by  a  groundwork  of  melancholy. 

The  marble  of  manhood  retained  the  impression  stamped 
upon  the  wax  of  childhood.  His  early  years  had  been 
profoundly  unhappy.  His  parents  were  stern  disciplinarians 
of  the  antique  type.  His  private  school  was  a  hell  on 
earth  ;  and  yet  he  used  to  say  that  he  feared  the  master  and 
the  bullies  less  than  he  feared  his  parents.  One  element 
of  joy,  and  one  only,  he  recognized  in  looking  back  to 
those  dark  days,  and  that  was  the  devotion  of  an  old  nurse, 
who  comforted  him  in  his  childish  sorrows,  and  taught  him 
the  rudiments  of  Christian  faith.  In  all  the  struggles  and 
distresses  of  boyhood  and  manhood,  he  used  the  words  of 
prayer  which  he  had  learned  from  this  good  woman  before 
he  was  seven  years  old ;  and  of  a  keepsake  which  she  left 
him — the  gold  watch  which  he  wore  to  the  last  day  of  his 
life — he  used  to  say,  "That  was  given  to  me  by  the  best 
friend  I  ever  had  in  the  world." 

At  twelve  years  old  Anthony  Ashley  went  to  Harrow, 
where  he  boarded  with  the  Head  Master,  Dr.  Butler,  father 
of  the  present  Master  of  Trinity.  I  have  heard  him  say 
that  the  master  in  whose  form  he  was,  being  a  bad  sleeper, 
held  "  first  school "  at  four  o'clock  on  a  winter's  morning ; 
and  that  the  boy  for  whom  he  fagged,  being  anxious  to 
shine  as  a  reciter,  and  finding  it  difficult  to  secure  an 
audience,  compelled  him  and  his  fellow-fag  to  listen  night 
after  night  to  his  recitations,  perched  on  a  high  stool  where 
a  nap  was  impossible. 

But  in  spite  of  these  austerities,  Anthony  Ashley  was 
happy  at  Harrow ;  and  the  place  should  be  sacred  in  the 
eyes  of  all  philanthropists,  because  it  was  there  that,  when 
he  was  fourteen  years  old,  he  consciously  and  definitely 
gave  his  life  to  the  service  of  his  fellow-men.     He  chanced 


30   COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

to  see  a  scene  of  drunken  indecency  and  neglect  at  the 
funeral  of  one  of  the  villagers,  and  exclaimed  in  horror, 
"  Good  heavens !  Can  this  be  permitted  simply  because 
the  man  was  poor  and  friendless?"  What  resulted  is 
told  by  a  tablet  on  the  wall  of  the  Old  School,  which  bears 
the  following  inscription  : — 

Love.  Serve. 

NEAR   THIS    SPOT 

ANTHONY  ASHLEY  COOPER 

AFTERWARDS    7TH    EARL    OF    SHAFTESBURY,    K.G. 

WHILE    YET   A    BOY    IN    HARROW    SCHOOL 

SAW    WITH    SHAME    AND    INDIGNATION 

THE    pauper's    FUNERAL 

WHICH    HELPED    TO    AWAKEN    HIS    LIFELONG 

DEVOTION    TO    THE    SERVICE    OF    THE    POOR 

AND    THE    OPPRESSED. 


Blessed  is  he  that  considereth  the  poor. 

After  leaving  Harrow  Lord  Ashley  (as  he  now  was)  spent 
two  years  at  a  private  tutor's,  and  in  1819  he  went  up  to 
Christ  Church.  In  1822  he  took  a  First  Class  in  Classics. 
The  next  four  years  were  spent  in  study  and  travel,  and  in 
1826  he  was  returned  to  Parliament,  by  the  influence  of  his 
uncle  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  for  the  Borough  of  Wood- 
stock. On  November  16  he  recorded  in  his  diary:  "Took 
the  oaths  of  Parliament  with  great  good  will ;  a  slight  prayer 
for  assistance  in  my  thoughts  and  deeds."  Never  was  a 
politician's  prayer  more  abundantly  granted. 

In  1830  Lord  Ashley  married  a  daughter  of  Lord  Cowper, 
and  this  marriage,  independently  of  the  radiant  happiness 
which  it  brought,  had  an  important  bearing  on  his  political 
career ;  for  Lady  Ashley's  uncle  was  Lord  Melbourne,  and 
her  mother  became,  by  a  second  marriage,  the  wife  of  Lord 
Palmerston.  Of  Lord  Melbourne  and  his  strong  common 
sense  Lord  Shaftesbury,  in  1882,  told  me  the  following 
characteristic  story.     When  the  Queen  became  engaged  to 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        31 

Prince  Albert,  she  wished  him  to  be  made  King  Consort 
by  Act  of  Parliament,  and  urged  her  wish  upon  the  Prime 
Minister,  Lord  Melbourne.  At  first  that  sagacious  man 
simply  evaded  the  point,  but  when  her  Majesty  insisted  on 
a  categorical  answer,   "  I   thought  it  my  duty  to  be  very 

plain  with  her.     I  said,   'For  G 's  sake,  let's  hear  no 

more  of  it,  ma'am ;  for  if  you  once  get  the  English  people 
into  the  way  of  making  kings,  you  will  get  them  into  the 
way  of  unmaking  them.' " 

By  this  time  Lord  Ashley  was  deeply  immersed  in  those 
philanthropic  enterprises  which  he  had  deliberately  chosen 
as  the  occupation  of  his  lifetime.  Reform  of  the  Lunacy 
Law  and  a  humaner  treatment  of  lunatics  were  the  earliest 
objects  to  which  he  devoted  himself.  To  attain  them  the 
more  effectually  he  got  himself  made  a  member,  and  sub- 
sequently chairman,  of  the  Lunacy  Commission,  and  threw 
himself  into  the  work  with  characteristic  thoroughness.  He 
used  to  pay  "surprise  visits"  both  by  day  and  night  to 
public  and  private  asylums,  and  discovered  by  those  means 
a  system  of  regulated  and  sanctioned  cruelty  which,  as  he 
narrated  it  in  his  old  age,  seemed  almost  too  horrible  for 
credence. 

The  abolition  of  slavery  all  over  the  world  was  a  cause 
which  very  early  enlisted  his  sympathy,  and  he  used  to  tell, 
with  grim  humour,  how,  when,  after  he  had  become  Lord 
Shaftesbury,  he  signed  an  Open  Letter  to  America  in 
favour  of  emancipation,  a  Southern  newspaper  sarcastically 
inquired,  "Where  was  this  Lord  Shaftesbury  when  the 
noble-hearted  Lord  Ashley  was  doing  his  single-handed 
work  on  behalf  of  the  English  slaves  in  the  factories  of 
Lancashire  and  Yorkshire  .'' " 

Sanitary  reform  and  the  promotion  of  the  public  health 
were  objects  at  which,  in  the  middle  part  of  his  life,  he 
worked  hard,  both  as  a  landowner  and  as  the  unpaid  Chairman 
of  the  Board  of  Health.     The  crusade  against  vivisection 


32   COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

warmed  his  heart  and  woke  his  indignant  eloquence  in  his 
declining  years.  His  Memorial  Service  in  Westminster 
Abbey  was  attended  by  representatives  of  nearly  two 
hundred  religious  and  philanthropic  institutions  with  which 
he  had  been  connected,  and  which,  in  one  way  or  another, 
he  had  served.  But,  of  course,  it  is  with  the  reform  of  the 
Factory  Laws  that  his  name  is  most  inseparably  associated. 

In  1833  Lord  Ashley  took  up  the  Ten  Hours  Bill, 
previously  in  the  charge  of  Mr.  Sadler,  who  had  now  lost 
his  seat.  He  carried  his  Bill  through  the  Second  Reading, 
but  it  was  opposed  by  Lord  Althorp,  who  threw  it  out,  and 
carried  a  modified  proposal  in  1833.  In  1844  the  introduc- 
tion of  a  new  Bill  for  the  regulation  of  labour  in  factories 
brought  Lord  Ashley  back  to  his  old  battlefield.  A  desperate 
struggle  was  made  to  amend  the  Bill  into  a  Ten  Hours  Bill, 
but  this  failed,  owing  to  Sir  Robert  Peel's  threat  of 
resignation.  In  1845  Lord  Ashley  refused  the  Chief 
Secretaryship  for  Ireland  in  order  to  be  able  to  devote 
himself  wholly  to  the  Ten  Hours  Bill;  and,  as  soon  as 
Parliament  rose,  he  went  on  a  tour  through  the  manufactur- 
ing districts,  speaking  in  public,  mediating  between  masters 
and  men,  and  organizing  the  Ten  Hours  movement. 

In  1847  the  Bill  passed  into  law.  On  June  i  in  that 
year  Lord  Ashley  wrote  in  his  diary :  "  News  that  the 
Factory  Bill  has  just  passed  the  Third  Reading.  I  am 
humbled  that  my  heart  is  not  bursting  with  thankful- 
ness to  Almighty  God — that  I  can  find  breath  and  sense  to 
express  my  joy.  What  reward  shall  we  give  unto  the  Lord 
for  all  the  benefits  He  hath  conferred  upon  us  ?  God  in  His 
mercy  prosper  the  work,  and  grant  that  these  operatives 
may  receive  the  cup  of  salvation  and  call  upon  the  name  of 
the  Lord!" 

The  perfervid  vein  of  philanthropic  zeal  which  is  apparent 
in  this  extract  animated  every  part  of  Lord  Shaftesbury's 
nature  and  every  action  of  his  life.     He  had,  if  ever  man 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        33 

had,  "  the  Enthusiasm  of  Humanity,"  His  religion,  on  its 
interior  side,  was  rapt,  emotional,  and  sometimes  mystic; 
but  at  the  same  time  it  was,  in  its  outward  manifestations, 
definite,  tangible,  and,  beyond  most  men's,  practical.  At 
the  age  of  twenty-seven  he  wrote  in  his  diary :  "  On  my 
soul,  I  believe  that  I  desire  the  welfare  of  mankind."  At 
eighty-four  he  exclaimed,  in  view  of  his  approaching  end, 
"  I  cannot  bear  to  leave  the  world  with  all  the  misery  in  it." 
And  this  was  no  mere  effusive  declamation,  but  the  genuine 
utterance  of  a  zeal  which  condescended  to  the  most  minute 
and  laborious  forms  of  practical  expression.  "Poor  dear 
children  ! "  he  exclaimed  to  the  superintendent  of  a  ragged 
school,  after  hearing  from  some  of  the  children  their  tale  of 
cold  and  hunger.     "  What  can  we  do  for  them  ?  " 

"  My  God  shall  supply  all  their  need,"  replied  the  super- 
intendent with  easy  faith. 

"Yes,"  said  Lord  Shaftesbury,  "He  will,  but  they  must 
have  some  food  directly."  He  drove  home,  and  instantly 
sent  two  churns  of  soup,  enough  to  feed  four  hundred. 
That  winter  ten  thousand  basins  of  soup,  made  in  Grosvenor 
Square,  were  distributed  among  the  "dear  little  hearts" 
of  Whitechapel. 

And  as  in  small  things,  so  in  great.  One  principle 
consecrated  his  whole  life.  His  love  of  God  constrained 
him  to  the  service  of  men,  and  no  earthly  object  or  con- 
sideration— however  natural,  innocent,  or  even  laudable — 
was  allowed  for  a  moment  to  interpose  itself  between  him 
and  the  supreme  purpose  for  which  he  lived.  He  was  by 
nature  a  man  of  keen  ambition,  and  yet  he  twice  refused 
office  in  the  Household,  once  the  Chief  Secretaryship,  and 
three  times  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet,  because  acceptance 
would  have  hindered  him  in  his  social  legislation  and 
philanthropic  business.  When  we  consider  his  singular 
qualifications  for  public  life — his  physical  gifts,  his  power 
of  speech,  his  habits  of  business,  his  intimate  connections 


34        COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

with  the  official  caste — when  we  remember  that  he  did 
not  succeed  to  his  paternal  property  till  he  was  fifty  years 
old,  and  then  found  it  grossly  neglected  and  burdened 
with  debt ;  and  that  his  purse  had  been  constantly  drained 
by  his  philanthropic  enterprises — we  are  justified  in  saying 
that  very  few  men  have  ever  sacrificed  so  much  for  a  cause 
which  brought  neither  honours,  nor  riches,  nor  power,  nor 
any  visible  reward,  except  the  diminished  suffering  and 
increased  happiness  of  multitudes  who  were  the  least  able 
to  help  themselves.  * 

Lord  Shaftesbury's  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Labour  led 
him  to  make  the  Factory  Acts  a  touchstone  of  character. 
To  the  end  of  his  days  his  view  of  public  men  was  largely 
governed  by  the  part  which  they  had  played  in  that  great 
controversy,  "Gladstone  voted  against  me,"  was  a  stern 
sentence  not  seldom  on  his  lips.  "■  Bright  was  the  most 
malignant  opponent  the  Factory  Bill  ever  had."  "  Cobden, 
though  bitterly  hostile,  was  better  than  Bright."  Even  men 
whom  on  general  grounds  he  disliked  and  despised — such 
as  Lord  Beaconsfield  and  Bishop  Wilberforce — found  a 
saving  clause  in  his  judgment  if  he  could  truthfully  say, 
"  He  helped  me  with  the  chimney-sweeps,"  or,  "  He  felt  for 
the  wretched  operatives." 

But  even  apart  from  questions  of  humane  sentiment  and 
the  supreme  interests  of  social  legislation,  I  always  felt  in 
my  intercourse  with  Lord  Shaftesbury  that  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  to  act  for  long  together  in  subordi- 
nation to,  or  even  in  concert  with,  any  political  leader. 
Resolute,  self-reliant,  inflexible ;  hating  compromise ;  never 
turning  aside  by  a  hair's-breadth  from  the  path  of  duty; 
incapable  of  flattering  high  or  low;  dreading  leaps  in  the 
dark,  but  dreading  more  than  anything  else  the  sacrifice  of 
principle  to  party — he  was  essentially  the  type  of  politician 
who  is  the  despair  of  the  official  wire-puller. 

Oddly  enough,  Lord  Palmerston  was  the  statesman  with 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        35 

whom,  despite  all  ethical  dissimilarity,  he  had  the  most 
sympathy,  and  this  arose  partly  from  their  near  relationship 
and  partly  from  Lord  Palmerston's  easy-going  habit  of 
placing  his  ecclesiastical  patronage  in  Lord  Shaftesbury's 
hands.  It  was  this  unseen  but  not  unfelt  power  as  a  con- 
fidential yet  irresponsible  adviser  that  Lord  Shaftesbury 
really  enjoyed  ;  and,  indeed,  his  political  opinions  were  too 
individual  to  have  allowed  of  binding  association  with  either 
political  party.  He  was,  in  the  truest  and  best  sense  of  the 
word,  a  Conservative.  To  call  him  a  Tory  would  be  quite 
misleading.  He  was  not  averse  from  Roman  Catholic 
emancipation.  He  took  no  prominent  part  against  the 
first  Reform  Bill.  His  resistance  to  the  admission  of  the 
Jews  to  Parliament  was  directed  rather  against  the  method 
than  the  principle.  Though  not  friendly  to  Women's 
Suffrage,  he  said  :  "  I  shall  feel  myself  bound  to  conform  to 
the  national  will,  but  I  am  not  prepared  to  stimulate  it." 

But  while  no  blind  and  unreasoning  opponent  of  all 
change,  he  had  a  deep  and  lively  veneration  for  the  past. 
Institutions,  doctrines,  ceremonies,  dignities,  even  social 
customs,  which  had  descended  from  old  time,  had  for  him 
a  fascination  and  an  awe.  In  his  high  sense  of  the  privileges 
and  the  duties  of  kingship,  of  aristocracy,  of  territorial  pos- 
session, of  established  religions,  he  recalled  the  doctrine  of 
Burke ;  and  he  resembled  that  illustrious  man  in  his  passion- 
ate love  of  principle,  in  his  proud  hatred  of  shifts  and  com- 
promises, in  his  contempt  for  the  whole  race  of  mechanical 
politicians  and  their  ignoble  strife  for  place  and  power. 

When  Lord  Derby  formed  his  Government  in  1866,  on 
the  defeat  of  Lord  Russell's  second  Reform  Bill,  he  endeav- 
oured to  obtain  the  sanction  of  Lord  Shaftesbury's  name 
and  authority  by  offering  him  a  seat  in  his  Cabinet.  This 
offer  was  promptly  declined ;  had  it  been  accepted,  it  might 
have  had  an  important  bearing  on  the  following  event,  which 
was  narrated  to  me   by  Lord  Shaftesbury  in    1882.     One 


36       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

winter  evening  in  1867  he  was  sitting  in  his  library  in 
Grosvenor  Square,  when  the  servant  told  him  that  there  was  a 
poor  man  waiting  to  see  him.  The  man  was  shown  in,  and 
proved  to  be  a  labourer  from  Clerkenwell,  and  one  of  the 
innumerable  recipients  of  the  old  Earl's  charity.  He  said. 
"  My  Lord,  you  have  been  very  good  to  me,  and  I  have 
come  to  tell  you  what  I  have  heard."  It  appeared  that  at 
the  public-house  which  he  frequented  he  had  overheard 
some  Irishmen  of  desperate  character  plotting  to  blow  up 
Clerkenwell  prison.  He  gave  Lord  Shaftesbury  the  infor- 
mation to  be  used  as  he  thought  best,  but  made  it  a  condi- 
tion that  his  name  should  not  be  divulged.  If  it  were,  his 
life  would  not  be  worth  an  hour's  purchase.  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury pledged  himself  to  secrecy,  ordered  his  carriage,  and 
drove  instantly  to  Whitehall.  The  authorities  there  refused, 
on  grounds  of  official  practice,  to  entertain  the  information 
without  the  name  and  address  of  the  informant.  These,  of 
course,  could  not  be  given.  The  warning  was  rejected,  and 
the  jail  blown  up.  Had  Lord  Shaftesbury  been  a  Cabinet 
Minister,  this  triumph  of  officialism  would  probably  not 
have  occurred. 

What  I  have  said  of  this  favourite  hero  of  mine  in  his 
public  aspects  will  have  prepared  the  sympathetic  reader 
for  the  presentment  of  the  man  as  he  appeared  in  private 
life.  For  what  he  was  abroad  that  he  was  at  home.  He 
was  not  a  man  who  showed  two  natures  or  lived  two  lives. 
He  was  profoundly  religious,  eagerly  benevolent,  utterly 
impatient  of  whatever  stood  between  him  and  the  laudable 
object  of  the  moment,  warmly  attached  to  those  who  shared 
his  sympathies  and  helped  his  enterprises — Fort  comme  le 
diamant ;  plus  tendre  qu'une  mere.  The  imperiousness 
which  I  described  at  the  outset  remained  a  leading  charac- 
teristic to  the  last.  His  opinions  were  strong,  his  judgment 
was  emphatic,  his  language  unmeasured.  He  had  been,  all 
through  his  public  life,  surrounded  by  a  cohort  of  admiring 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        37 

and  obedient  coadjutors,  and  he  was  unused  to,  and  intoler- 
ant of,  disagreement  or  opposition.  It  was  a  disconcerting 
experience  to  speak  on  a  platform  where  he  was  chairman, 
and,  just  as  one  was  warming  to  an  impressive  passage,  to 
feel  a  vigorous  pull  at  one's  coat-tail,  and  to  hear  a  quick, 
imperative  voice  say,  in  no  muffled  tone,  "  My  dear  fellow, 
are  you  never  going  to  stop  ?     We  shall  be  here  all  night." 

But  when  due  allowance  was  made  for  this  natural  habit 
of  command.  Lord  Shaftesbury  was  delightful  company. 
Given  to  hospitality,  he  did  the  honours  with  stately  grace ; 
and,  on  the  rare  occasions  when  he  could  be  induced  to 
dine  out,  his  presence  was  sure  to  make  the  party  a  success. 
In  early  life  he  had  been  pestered  by  a  delicate  diges- 
tion, and  had  accustomed  himself  to  a  regimen  of  rigid 
simplicity ;  but,  though  the  most  abstemious  of  men,  he 
knew  and  liked  a  good  glass  of  wine,  and  in  a  small  party 
would  bring  out  of  the  treasures  of  his  memory  things  new 
and  old  with  a  copiousness  and  a  vivacity  which  fairly  fas- 
cinated his  hearers.  His  conversation  had  a  certain  flavour 
of  literature.  His  classical  scholarship  was  easy  and  grace- 
ful. He  had  the  Latin  poets  at  his  fingers'  ends,  spoke 
French  fluently,  knew  Milton  by  heart,  and  was  a  great 
admirer  of  Crabbe.  His  own  style,  both  in  speech  and 
writing,  was  copious,  vigorous,  and  often  really  eloquent. 
It  had  the  same  ornamental  precision  as  his  exquisite  hand- 
writing. When  he  was  among  friends  whom  he  thoroughly 
enjoyed,  the  sombre  dignity  of  his  conversation  was  con- 
stantly enlivened  by  flashes  of  a  genuine  humour,  which 
relieved,  by  the  force  of  vivid  contrast,  the  habitual  austerity 
of  his  demeanour. 

A  kind  of  proud  humility  was  constantly  present  in  his 
speech  and  bearing.  Ostentation,  display,  lavish  expenditure 
would  have  been  abhorrent  alike  to  his  taste  and  his  prin- 
ciples. The  stately  figure  which  bore  itself  so  majestically 
in  Courts   and   Parliaments   naturally  unbent   among   the 


38       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

costermongers  of  Whitechapel  and  the  labourers  of  Dorset- 
shire. His  personal  appointments  were  simple  to  a  degree ; 
his  own  expenditure  was  restricted  within  the  narrowest 
limits.  But  he  loved,  and  was  honestly  proud  of,  his  beauti- 
ful home — St.  Giles's  House,  near  Cranbourne ;  and  when 
he  received  his  guests,  gentle  or  simple,  at  "  The  Saint,"  as 
he  affectionately  called  it,  the  mixture  of  stateliness  and 
geniality  in  his  bearing  and  address  was  an  object-lesson  in 
high  breeding.  Once  Lord  Beaconsfield,  who  was  staying 
with  Lord  Alington  at  Crichel,  was  driven  over  to  call  on 
Lord  Shaftesbury  at  St.  Giles's.  When  he  rose  to  take  his 
leave,  he  said,  with  characteristic  magniloquence,  but  not 
without  an  element  of  truth,  "  Good-bye,  my  dear  Lord. 
You  have  given  me  the  privilege  of  seeing  one  of  the  most 
impressive  of  all  spectacles — a  great  English  nobleman 
living  in  patriarchal  state  in  his  own  hereditary  halls." 


IV. 

CARDINAL   MANNING. 

T  HAVE  described  a  great  philanthropist  and  a  great 
-^  statesman.  My  present  subject  is  a  man  who  combined 
in  singular  harmony  the  qualities  of  philanthropy  and  of 
statesmanship — Henry  Edward,  Cardinal  Manning,  and 
titular  Archbishop  of  Westminster. 

My  acquaintance  with  Cardinal  Manning  began  in  1833. 
Early  in  the  Parliamentary  session  of  that  year  he  intimated, 
through  a  common  friend,  a  desire  to  make  my  acquaint- 
ance. He  wished  to  get  an  independent  Member  of 
Parliament,  and  especially,  if  possible,  a  Liberal  and  a 
Churchman,  to  take  up  in  the  House  of  Commons  the 
cause  of  Denominational  Education.  His  scheme  was 
much  the  same  as  that  now*  adopted  by  the  Government — 
the  concurrent  endowment  of  all  denominational  schools ; 
which,  as  he  remarked,  would  practically  come  to  mean 
those  of  the  Anglicans,  the  Romans,  and  the  Wesleyans. 
In  compliance  with  his  request,  I  presented  myself  at  that 
barrack-like  building  off  the  Vauxhall  Bridge  Road,  which 
was  formerly  the  Guards'  Institute,  and  is  now  the  Arch- 
bishop's House.  Of  course,  I  had  long  been  familiar  with 
the  Cardinal's  shrunken  form  and  finely-cut  features,  and 
that   extraordinary    dignity   of    bearing   which    gave   him, 

*  1903- 


40       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

though  in  reality  below  the  middle  height,  the  air  and 
aspect  of  a  tall  man.  But  I  only  knew  him  as  a  con- 
spicuous and  impressive  figure  in  society,  on  public  plat- 
forms, and  (where  he  specially  loved  to  be)  in  the  precincts 
of  the  House  of  Commons.  I  had  never  exchanged  a  word 
with  him,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  very  special  interest 
that  I  entered  his  presence. 

We  had  little  in  common.  I  was  still  a  young  man,  and 
the  Cardinal  was  already  old.  I  was  a  staunch  Anglican ; 
he,  the  most  devoted  of  Papalists.  I  was  strongly  opposed 
both  to  his  Ultramontane  policy  and  to  those  dexterous 
methods  by  which  he  was  commonly  supposed  to  promote 
it ;  and,  as  far  as  the  circumstances  of  my  life  had  given  me 
any  insight  into  the  interior  of  Romanism,  I  sympathized 
with  the  great  Oratorian  of  Birmingham  rather  than  with 
his  brother-cardinal  of  Westminster.  But  though  I  hope 
that  my  principles  stood  firm,  all  my  prejudices  melted  away 
in  that  fascinating  presence.  Though  there  was  something 
like  half  a  century's  difference  in  our  ages,  I  felt  at  once 
and  completely  at  home  with  him. 

What  made  our  perfect  ease  of  intercourse  more  remark- 
able was  that,  as  far  as  the  Cardinal's  immediate  object 
was  concerned,  my  visit  was  a  total  failure.  I  had  no 
sympathy  with  his  scheme  for  the  endowment  of  denomi- 
national teaching,  and,  with  all  the  will  in  the  world  to 
please  him,  I  could  not  even  meet  him  half  way.  But  this 
untoward  circumstance  did  not  import  the  least  difficulty 
or  restraint  into  our  conversation.  He  gently  glided  from 
business  into  general  topics;  knew  all  about  my  career, 
congratulated  me  on  some  recent  success,  remembered  some 
of  my  belongings,  inquired  about  my  school  and  college, 
was  interested  to  find  that,  like  himself,  I  had  been  at 
Harrow  and  Oxford,  and,  after  an  hour's  pleasant  chat, 
said,  "Now  you  must  stay  and  have  some  luncheon." 
From   that  day  to  the  end  of  his  life  I  was  a  frequent 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        41 

visitor  at  his  house,  and  every  year  that  I  knew  him  I 
learned  to  regard  and  respect  him  increasingly. 

Looking  back  over  these  fourteen  years,  and  reviewing 
my  impressions  of  his  personality,  I  must  put  first  the 
physical  aspect  of  the  man.  He  seemed  older  than  he  was, 
and  even  more  ascetic,  for  he  looked  as  if,  like  the 
cardinal  in  Lothair,  he  lived  on  biscuits  and  soda-water ; 
whereas  he  had  a  hearty  appetite  for  his  midday  meal,  and, 
in  his  own  words,  "enjoyed  his  tea."  Still,  he  carried  the 
irreducible  minimum  of  flesh  on  his  bones,  and  his  hollow 
cheeks  and  shrunken  jaws  threw  his  massive  forehead  into 
striking  prominence.  His  line  of  features  was  absolutely 
faultless  in  its  statuesque  regularity,  but  his  face  was  saved 
from  the  insipidity  of  too  great  perfection  by  the  imperious 
— rather  ruthless — lines  of  his  mouth  and  the  penetrating 
lustre  of  his  deep-set  eyes.  His  dress — a  black  cassock 
edged  and  buttoned  with  crimson,  with  a  crimson  skullcap 
and  biretta,  and  a  pectoral  cross  of  gold — enhanced  the 
picturesqueness  of  his  aspect,  and  as  he  entered  the  ante- 
room where  one  awaited  his  approach,  the  most  Protestant 
knee  instinctively  bent. 

His  dignity  was  astonishing.  The  position  of  a  cardinal 
with  a  princely  rank  recognized  abroad  but  officially  ignored 
in  England  was  difficult  to  carry  off,  but  his  exquisite 
tact  enabled  him  to  sustain  it  to  perfection.  He  never 
put  himself  forward ;  never  asserted  his  rank ;  never  exposed 
himself  to  rebuffs;  still,  he  always  contrived  to  be  the 
most  conspicuous  figure  in  any  company  which  he  entered ; 
and  whether  one  greeted  him  with  the  homage  due  to  a 
prince  of  the  Church  or  merely  with  the  respect  which  no 
one  refuses  to  a  courtly  old  gentleman,  his  manner  was 
equally  easy,  natural,  and  unembarrassed.  The  fact  that 
the  Cardinal's  name,  after  due  consideration,  was  inserted 
in  the  Royal  Commission  on  the  Housing  of  the  Poor 
immediately  after  that  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  before 

3 


42       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Lord  Salisbury's  was  the  formal  recognition  of  a  social 
precedence  which  adroitness  and  judgment  had  already 
made  his  own. 

To  imagine  that  Cardinal  Manning  regarded  station,  or 
dignity,  or  even  power,  as  treasures  to  be  valued  in  them- 
selves would  be  ridiculously  to  misconceive  the  man.  He 
had  two  supreme  and  absorbing  objects  in  life — if,  indeed, 
they  may  not  be  more  properly  spoken  of  as  one — the 
glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  men.  These  were,  in  his 
intellect  and  conscience,  identified  with  the  victory  of  the 
Roman  Church.  To  these  all  else  was  subordinated ;  by 
its  relation  to  these  all  else  was  weighed  and  calculated. 
His  ecclesiastical  dignity,  and  the  secular  recognition  of  it, 
were  valuable  as  means  to  high  ends.  They  attracted 
public  notice  to  his  person  and  mission ;  they  secured  him 
a  wider  hearing ;  they  gave  him  access  to  circles  which, 
perhaps,  would  otherwise  have  been  closed.  Hence,  and 
for  no  other  reason,  they  were  valuable. 

It  has  always  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  Manning  was 
essentially  a  man  of  the  world,  though  he  was  much  more 
than  that.  Be  it  far  from  me  to  disparage  the  ordinary 
type  of  Roman  ecclesiastic,  who  is  bred  in  a  seminary, 
and  perhaps  spends  his  lifetime  in  a  religious  community. 
That  peculiar  training  produces,  often  enough,  a  character 
of  saintliness  and  unworldly  grace  on  which  one  can  only 
"look,"  to  use  a  phrase  of  Mr.  Gladstone's,  "as  men  look 
up  at  the  stars."  But  it  was  a  very  different  process  that 
had  made  Cardinal  Manning  what  he  was.  He  had  touched 
life  at  many  points.  A  wealthy  home,  four  years  at  Harrow, 
Balliol  in  its  palmiest  days,  a  good  degree,  a  College 
Fellowship,  political  and  secular  ambitions  of  no  common 
kind,  apprenticeship  to  the  practical  work  of  a  Government 
office,  a  marriage  brightly  but  all  too  briefly  happy,  the 
charge  of  a  country  parish,  and  an  early  initiation  into 
the  duties  of  ecclesiastical  rulership — all  these  experiences 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        43 

had  made  Henry  Manning,  by  the  time  of  his  momentous 
change,  an  accomplished  man  of  the  world. 

His  subsequent  career,  though,  of  course,  it  superadded 
certain  characteristics  of  its  own,  never  obliterated  or  even 
concealed  the  marks  left  by  those  earlier  phases,  and  the 
octogenarian  Cardinal  was  a  beautifully-mannered,  well- 
informed,  sagacious  old  gentleman  who,  but  for  his  dress, 
might  have  passed  for  a  Cabinet  Minister,  an  eminent 
judge,  or  a  great  county  magnate. 

His  mental  alertness  was  remarkable.  He  seemed  to 
read  everything  that  came  out,  and  to  know  all  that  was 
going  on.  He  probed  character  with  a  glance,  and  was 
particularly  sharp  on  pretentiousness  and  self-importance. 
A  well-known  publicist,  who  perhaps  thinks  of  himself 
rather  more  highly  than  he  ought  to  think,  once  ventured 
to  tell  the  Cardinal  that  he  knew  nothing  about  the 
subject  of  a  painful  agitation  which  pervaded  London  in 
the  summer  of  1885.  "I have  been  hearing  confessions 
in  London  for  thirty  years,  and  I  fancy  more  people  have 

confided  their  secrets  to  me  than  to  you,  Mr. ,"  was  the 

Cardinal's  reply. 

Once,  when  his  burning  sympathy  with  suffering  and  his 
profound  contempt  for  Political  Economy  had  led  him,  in 
his  own  words,  to  "poke  fun  at  the  Dismal  Science,"  the 
Times  lectured  him  in  its  most  superior  manner,  and  said 
that  the  venerable  prelate  seemed  to  mistake  cause  and 
effect.  "That,"  said  the  Cardinal  to  me,  "is  the  sort  of 
criticism  that  an  undergraduate  makes,  and  thinks  himself 
very  clever.  But  I  am  told  that  in  the  present  day  the 
Times  is  chiefly  written  by  undergraduates." 

I  once  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  a  high  dignitary 
of  the  English  Church,  who  had  gone  a  certain  way  in  a 
public  movement,  and  then  had  been  frightened  back  by 
clamour.  His  reply  was  the  single  word  ^^  infirmus,'^  ac- 
companied by  that  peculiar  sniff  which  every  one  who  ever 


44        COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

conversed  with  him  must  remember  as  adding  so  much  to 
the  piquancy  of  his  terse  judgments.  When  he  was  asked 
his  opinion  of  a  famous  biography  in  which  a  son  had 
disclosed,  with  too  absolute  frankness,  his  father's  inner- 
most thoughts  and  feelings,  the  Cardinal  replied,  "  I  think 
that has  committed  the  sin  of  Ham." 

His  sense  of  humour  was  peculiarly  keen,  and  though  it 
was  habitually  kept  under  control,  it  was  sometimes  used 
to  point  a  moral  with  admirable  effect. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  in  life?"  he  asked  a  rather 
flippant  undergraduate  at  Oxford. 

"Oh,  I'm  going  to  take  Holy  Orders,"  was  the  airy 
reply. 

"  Take  care  you  get  them,  my  son." 

Though  he  was  intolerant  of  bumptiousness,  the  Cardinal 
liked  young  men.  He  often  had  some  about  him,  and  in 
speaking  to  them  the  friendliness  of  his  manner  was  touched 
with  fatherliness  in  a  truly  attractive  fashion.  And  as  with 
young  men,  so  with  children.  Surely  nothing  could  be 
prettier  than  this  answer  to  a  little  girl  in  New  York  who 
had  addressed  some  of  her  domestic  experiences  to 
"  Cardinal  Manning,  England." 

"  My  Dear  Child, — You  ask  me  whether  I  am  glad  to 
receive  letters  from  little  children.  I  am  always  glad,  for 
they  write  kindly  and  give  me  no  trouble.  I  wish  all  my 
letters  were  like  theirs.  Give  my  blessing  to  your  father, 
and  tell  him  that  our  good  Master  will  reward  him  a 
hundredfold  for  all  he  has  lost  for  the  sake  of  his  faith. 
Tell  him  that  when  he  comes  over  to  England  he  must 
come  to  see  me.  And  mind  you  bring  your  violin,  for  I 
love  music,  but  seldom  have  any  time  to  hear  it.  The  next 
three  or  four  years  of  your  life  are  very  precious.  They  are 
like  the  ploughing-time  and  the  sowing-time  in  the  year. 
You  are  learning  to  know  God,  the  Holy  Trinity,  the 
Incarnation,  the  presence  and  voice  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        45 

the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ.  Learn  all  these  things  solidly, 
and  you  will  love  the  Blessed  Sacrament  and  our  Blessed 
Mother  with  all  your  heart.  And  now  you  will  pray  for 
me  that  I  may  make  a  good  end  of  a  long  life,  which 
cannot  be  far  off.  And  may  God  guide  you  and  guard 
you  in  innocence  and  in  fidelity  through  this  evil,  evil 
world !  And  may  His  blessing  be  on  your  home  and  all 
belonging  to  you  !  Believe  me  always  a  true  friend,  Henry 
Edward,  Card.  Abp.  of  Westminster." 

The  Cardinal  had,  I  should  say,  rather  a  contempt  for 
women.  He  exercised  a  great  influence  over  them,  but  I 
question  if  he  rated  their  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  as 
highly  as  he  ought,  and  their  "  rights  "  he  held  in  utter  de- 
testation. General  society,  though  in  his  later  days  he  saw 
little  of  it  except  at  the  Athenaeum,  he  thoroughly  enjoyed. 
Like  most  old  people,  he  was  fond  of  talking  about  old 
days,  and  as  he  had  known  hosts  of  important  and  interest- 
ing men,  had  a  tenacious  memory,  and  spoke  the  most 
finished  English,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  listen  to  his  reminis- 
cences. He  wrote  as  well  as  he  talked.  His  pointed  and 
lucid  style  gave  to  his  printed  performances  a  semblance 
of  cogency  which  they  did  not  really  possess  ;  and  his  letters 
— even  his  shortest  notes — were  as  exquisite  in  wording  as 
in  penmanship.  As  he  grew  older,  he  became  increasingly 
sensible  of  the  charms  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne,"  and  he  de- 
lighted to  renew  his  acquaintance  with  the  scenes  and 
associations  of  his  youth. 

On  July  15,  1888,  being  the  first  day  of  the  Eton  and 
Harrow  Match  at  Lord's,  a  few  old  Harrovians  of  different 
generations  met  at  a  Harrow  dinner.  The  Cardinal,  who 
had  just  turned  eighty,  was  invited.  He  declined  to  dine, 
on  the  ground  that  he  never  dined  out,  but  he  would  on 
no  account  forego  the  opportunity  of  meeting  the  members 
of  his  old  school,  and  he  recalled  with  pride  that  he  had 
played  for  two  years  in  the  Harrow  Eleven.     He  appeared 


46       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

as  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  gallantly  faced  the  cloud  of 
cigar-smoke,  was  in  his  very  best  vein  of  anecdote  and 
reminiscence,  and  stayed  till  the  party  broke  up. 

The  Cardinal's  friendships  were  not,  I  believe,  numerous, 
but  his  affection  for  Mr.  Gladstone  is  well  known.  It  dated 
from  Oxford.  Through  Manning  and  Hope-Scott  the 
influence  of  the  Catholic  revival  reached  the  young  member 
for  Newark,  and  they  were  the  godfathers  of  his  eldest  son. 
After  their  secession  to  Rome  in  1851  this  profound  friend- 
ship fell  into  abeyance.  As  far  as  Manning  was  concerned, 
it  was  renewed  when,  in  1868,  Mr.  Gladstone  took  in  hand 
to  disestablish  the  Irish  Church.  It  was  broken  again  by 
the  controversy  about  Vaticanism  in  1875,  and  some  fifteen 
years  later  was  happily  revived  by  the  good  offices  of  a 
common  friend.  "  Gladstone  is  a  very  fine  fellow,"  said 
the  Cardinal  to  me  in  1890.  "He  is  not  vindictive.  You 
may  fight  him  as  hard  as  you  like,  and  when  the  fight  is 
over  you  will  find  that  it  has  left  no  rancour  behind  it." 

This  affection  for  Mr.  Gladstone  was  a  personal  matter, 
quite  independent  of  politics  ;  but  in  political  matters  also 
they  had  much  in  common,  "You  know,"  wrote  the 
Cardinal  to  Mrs.  Gladstone  on  her  Golden  Wedding,  "  how 
nearly  I  have  agreed  in  William's  political  career,  especially 
in  his  Irish  policy  of  the  last  twenty  years."  He  accepted 
the  principle  of  Home  Rule,  though  he  thought  badly  of 
the  Bill  of  1886,  and  predicted  its  failure  from  the  day 
when  it  was  brought  in.  The  exclusion  of  the  Irish  mem- 
bers was  in  his  eyes  a  fatal  blot,  as  tending  rather  to  separa- 
tion than  to  that  Imperial  federation  which  was  his  political 
ideal.  But  the  Cardinal  always  held  his  politics  in  subordina- 
tion to  his  religion,  and  at  the  General  Election  of  1885  his 
vigorous  intervention  on  behalf  of  denominational  education 
which  he  considered  to  be  imperilled  by  the  Radical  policy, 
considerably  embarrassed  the  Liberal  cause  in  those  districts 
of  London  where  there  is  a  Roman  Catholic  vote. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        47 

It  is  necessary  to  say  a  word  about  Cardinal  Manning's 
method  of  religious  propagandism.  He  excelled  in  the  art 
of  driving  a  nail  where  it  would  go.  He  never  worried  his 
acquaintance  with  controversy,  never  introduced  religious 
topics  unseasonably,  never  cast  his  pearls  before  unappre- 
ciative  animals.  But  when  he  saw  a  chance,  an  opening, 
a  sympathetic  tendency,  or  a  weak  spot,  he  fastened  on  it 
with  unerring  instinct.  His  line  was  rather  admonitory 
than  persuasive.  When  he  thought  that  the  person  whom 
he  was  addressing  had  an  inkling  of  the  truth,  but  was  held 
back  from  avowing  it  by  cowardice  or  indecision,  he  would 
utter  the  most  startling  warnings  about  the  danger  of  dally- 
ing with  grace. 

"  I  promise  you  to  become  a  Catholic  when  I  am  twenty- 
one,"  said  a  young  lady  whom  he  was  trying  to  convert. 

"  But  can  you  promise  to  live  so  long  ?  "  was  the  search- 
ing rejoinder. 

In  Manning's  belief,  the  Roman  Church  was  the  one 
oracle  of  truth  and  the  one  ark  of  salvation ;  and  his  was 
the  faith  which  would  compass  sea  and  land,  sacrifice  all 
that  it  possessed,  and  give  its  body  to  be  burned,  if  it  might 
by  any  means  bring  one  more  soul  to  safety.  If  he  could 
win  a  single  human  being  to  see  the  truth  and  act  on  it,  he 
was  supremely  happy.  To  make  the  Church  of  Rome 
attractive,  to  enlarge  her  borders,  to  win  recruits  for  her, 
was  therefore  his  constant  effort.  He  had  an  ulterior  eye 
to  it  in  all  his  public  works — his  zealous  teetotalism,  his 
advocacy  of  the  claims  of  labour,  his  sympathy  with  the 
demand  for  Home  Rule ;  and  the  same  principle  which 
animated  him  in  these  large  schemes  of  philanthropy  and 
public  policy  made  itself  felt  in  the  minutest  details  of 
daily  life  and  personal  dealing.  Where  he  saw  the  possi- 
bility of  making  a  convert,  or  even  of  dissipating  prejudice 
and  inclining  a  single  Protestant  more  favourably  towards 
Rome,  he  left  no  stone  unturned  to  secure  this  all-important 


48         COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

end.  Hence  it  came  that  he  was  constantly,  and  not 
wholly  without  reason,  depicted  as  a  man  whom  in  religious 
matters  it  was  impossible  to  trust;  with  whom  the  end 
justified  the  means ;  and  whose  every  act  and  word,  where 
the  interests  of  his  Church  were  involved,  must  be  watched 
with  the  most  jealous  suspicion. 

All  this  was  grossly  overstated.  Whatever  else  Cardinal 
Manning  was,  he  was  an  English  gentleman  of  the  old 
school,  with  a  nice  sense  of  honour  and  propriety.  But 
still,  under  a  mass  of  calumny  and  exaggeration,  there  lay 
this  substratum  of  truth — that  he  who  wills  the  end  wills 
the  means ;  and  that  where  the  interests  of  a  sacred  cause 
are  at  stake,  an  enthusiastic  adherent  will  sometimes  use 
methods  to  which,  in  enterprises  of  less  pith  and  moment, 
recourse  could  not  properly  be  had. 

Manning  had  what  has  been  called  "  the  ambition  of 
distinctiveness."  He  felt  that  he  had  a  special  mission 
which  no  other  man  could  so  adequately  fulfil,  and  this 
was  to  establish  and  popularize  in  England  his  own  robust 
faith  in  the  cause  of  the  Papacy  as  identical  with  the  cause 
of  God.  There  never  lived  a  stronger  Papalist.  He  was 
more  Ultramontane  than  the  Ultramontanes.  Everything 
Roman  was  to  him  divine.  Italian  architecture,  Italian 
vestments,  the  Italian  mode  of  pronouncing  ecclesiastical 
Latin  were  dear  to  him,  because  they  visibly  and  audibly 
implied  the  all-pervading  presence  and  power  of  Rome. 
Rightly  or  wrongly,  he  conceived  that  English  Romanism, 
as  it  was  when  he  joined  the  Roman  Church,  was  practically 
Gallicanism ;  that  it  minimized  the  Papal  supremacy,  was 
disloyal  to  the  Temporal  Power,  and  was  prone  to  accom- 
modate itself  to  its  Protestant  and  secular  environment. 
Against  this  time-serving  spirit  he  set  his  face  like  a  flint. 
He  believed  that  he  had  been  divinely  appointed  to  Papalize 
England.  The  cause  of  the  Pope  was  the  cause  of  God ; 
Manning  was  the  person  who  could  best  serve  the  Pope's 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   49 

cause,  and  therefore  all  forces  which  opposed  him  were 
in  effect  opposing  the  Divine  Will.  This  seems  to  have 
been  his  simple  and  sufficient  creed,  and  certainly  it  had 
the  merit  of  supplying  a  clear  rule  of  action.  It  made 
itself  felt  in  his  hostility  to  the  Religious  Orders,  and 
especially  the  Society  of  Jesus.  Religious  Orders  are 
extra-episcopal.  The  Jesuits  are  scarcely  subject  to  the 
Pope  himself.  Certainly  neither  the  Orders  nor  the 
Society  would,  or  could,  be  subject  to  Manning.  A  power 
independent  of,  or  hostile  to,  his  authority  was  inimical 
to  religion,  and  must,  as  a  religious  duty,  be  checked,  and, 
if  possible,  destroyed.  Exactly  the  same  principle  animated 
his  dealings  with  Cardinal  Newman.  Rightly  or  wrongly, 
Manning  thought  Newman  a  half-hearted  Papalist.  He 
drfeaded  alike  his  way  of  putting  things  and  his  practical 
policy.  Newman's  favourite  scheme  of  establishing  a 
Roman  Catholic  college  at  Oxford,  Manning  regarded  as 
fraught  with  peril  to  the  faith  of  the  rising  generation.  The 
scheme  must  therefore  be  crushed  and  its  author  snubbed. 

I  must  in  candour  add  that  these  differences  of  opinion 
between  the  two  Cardinals  were  mixed  with  and  embittered 
by  a  sense  of  personal  dislike.  When  Newman  died  there 
appeared  in  a  monthly  magazine  a  series  of  very  unflattering 
sketches  by  one  who  had  lived  under  his  roof.  I  ventured 
to  ask  Cardinal  Manning  if  he  had  seen  these  sketches. 
He  replied  that  he  had,  and  thought  them  very  shocking ; 
the  writer  must  have  a  very  unenviable  mind,  &c.,  and 
then,  having  thus  sacrificed  to  propriety,  after  a  moment's 
pause  he  added,  "  But  if  you  ask  me  if  they  are  like  poor 
Newman,  I  am  bound  to  say — a  photograph.^'' 

It  was,  I  suppose,  matter  of  common  knowledge  that 
Manning's  early  and  conspicuous  ascendency  in  the 
counsels  of  the  Papacy  rested  mainly  on  the  intimacy 
of  his  personal  relations  with  Pius  IX.  But  it  was  news 
to  most  of  us  that  (if  his  biographer  is  right)  he  wished 


50       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

to  succeed  Antonelli  as  Secretary  of  State  in  1876,  and  to 
transfer  the  scene  of  his  activities  from  Westminster  to' 
Rome,  and  that  he  attributed  the  Pope's  disregard  of  his 
wishes  to  mental  decrepitude.  The  point,  if  true,  is  an 
important  one,  for  his  accession  to  the  Secretaryship  of 
State,  and  permanent  residence  in  Rome,  could  not  have 
failed  to  affect  the  development  of  events  when,  two  years 
later,  the  Papal  throne  became  vacant  by  the  death  of  Pius 
IX.  But  Deo  aliter  visum.  It  was  ordained  that  he  should 
pass  the  evening  of  his  days  in  England,  and  that  he  should 
outlive  his  intimacy  at  the  Vatican  and  his  influence  on  the 
general  policy  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  With  the  accession 
of  Leo  XIII.  a  new  order  began,  and  Newman's  elevation 
to  the  sacred  purple  seemed  to  affix  the  sanction  of  Infalli- 
bility to  views  and  methods  against  which  Manning  had 
waged  a  Thirty  Years'  War,  Henceforward  he  felt  himself 
a  stranger  at  the  Vatican,  and  powerless  beyond  the  limits 
of  his  own  jurisdiction. 

Perhaps  this  restriction  of  exterior  activities  in  the 
ecclesiastical  sphere  drove  the  venerable  Cardinal  to  find  a 
vent  for  his  untiring  energies  in  those  various  efforts  of 
social  reform  in  which,  during  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life, 
he  played  so  conspicuous  a  part.  If  this  be  so,  though 
Rome  may  have  lost,  England  was  unquestionably  a  gainer. 
It  was  during  those  ten  years  that  I  was  honoured  by  his 
friendship.  The  storms,  the  struggles,  the  ambitions,  the 
intrigues  which  had  filled  so  large  a  part  of  his  middle  life 
lay  far  behind.  He  was  revered,  useful,  and,  I  think, 
contented  in  his  present  life,  and  looked  forward  with 
serene  confidence  to  the  final,  and  not  distant,  issue. 
Thrice  happy  is  the  man  who,  in  spite  of  increasing  infirm- 
ity and  the  loss  of  much  that  once  made  life  enjoyable,  thus 

"  Finds  comfort  in  himself  and  in  his  cause, 
And,  while  the  mortal  mist  is  gathering,  draws 
His  breath  in  confidence  of  Heaven's  applause." 


v.- 

LORD   HOUGHTON. 

TT  is  narrated  of  an  ancient  Fellow  of  All  Souls'  that, 
-*-  lamenting  the  changes  which  had  transformed  his  College 
from  the  nest  of  aristocratic  idlers  into  a  society  of  accom- 
plished scholars,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Hang  it  all,  sir,  we  were 
sui  generis."  What  the  unreformed  Fellows  of  All  Souls' 
were  among  the  common  run  of  Oxford  dons,  that,  it  may 
truly  (and  with  better  syntax)  be  said,  the  late  Lord 
Houghton  was  among  his  fellow-citizens.  Of  all  the  men  I 
have  ever  known  he  was,  I  think,  the  most  completely  sui 
generis.  His  temperament  and  turn  of  mind  were,  as  far  as 
I  know,  quite  unlike  anything  that  obtained  among  his 
predecessors  and  contemporaries ;  nor  do  I  see  them  re- 
produced among  the  men  who  have  come  after  him.  His 
peculiarities  were  not  external.  His  appearance  accorded 
with  his  position.  He  looked  very  much  what  one  would 
have  expected  in  a  country  gentleman  of  large  means  and 
prosperous  circumstances.  His  early  portraits  show  that 
he  was  very  like  all  the  other  young  gentlemen  of  fashion 
whom  D'Orsay  drew,  with  their  long  hair,  high  collars,  and 
stupendous  neckcloths.  The  admirably  faithful  work  of 
Mr.  Lehmann  will  enable  all  posterity  to  know  exactly  how 
he  looked  in  his  later  years  with  his  loose-fitting  clothes, 
comfortable  figure,  and  air  of  genial  gravity.  Externally 
all  was  normal.  His  peculiarities  were  those  of  mental 
habit,  temperament,  and  taste.     As  far  as  I  know,  he  had 


52   COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

not  a  drop  of  foreign  blood  in  his  veins,  yet  his  nature  was 
essentially  un-English. 

A  country  gentleman  who  frankly  preferred  living  in 
London,  and  a  Yorkshireman  who  detested  sport,  made 
a  sufficiently  strange  phenomenon ;  but  in  Lord  Houghton 
the  astonished  world  beheld  as  well  a  politician  who  wrote 
poetry,  a  railway-director  who  lived  in  literature,  a  libre- 
penseur  who  championed  the  Tractarians,  a  sentimentalist 
who  talked  like  a  cynic,  and  a  philosopher  who  had  elevated 
conviviality  to  the  dignity  of  an  exact  science.  Here, 
indeed,  was  a  "  living  oxymoron  " — a  combination  of  incon- 
sistent and  incongruous  qualities  which  to  the  typical  John 
Bull — Lord  Palmerston's  "  Fat  man  with  a  white  hat  in  the 
twopenny  omnibus  " — was  a  sealed  and  hopeless  mystery. 

Something  of  this  unlikeness  to  his  fellow-Englishmen 
was  due,  no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that  Lord  Houghton,  the 
only  son  of  a  gifted,  eccentric,  and  indulgent  father,  was 
brought  up  at  home.  The  glorification  of  the  Public 
School  has  been  ridiculously  overdone.  But  it  argues  no 
blind  faith  in  that  strange  system  of  unnatural  restraints 
and  scarcely  more  reasonable  indulgences  to  share  Gibbon's 
opinion  that  the  training  of  a  Public  School  is  the  best 
adapted  to  the  common  run  of  Englishmen.  "  It  made  us 
what  we  were,  sir,"  said  Major  Bagstock  to  Mr.  Dombey ; 
"  we  were  iron,  sir,  and  it  forged  us,"  The  average  English 
boy  being  what  he  is  by  nature — "a  soaring  human  boy," 
as  Mr.  Chadband  called  him — a  Public  School  simply 
makes  him  more  so.  It  confirms  alike  his  characteristic 
faults  and  his  peculiar  virtues,  and  turns  him  out  after 
five  or  six  years  that  altogether  lovely  and  gracious  product 
— the  Average  Englishman.  This  may  be  readily  con- 
ceded; but,  after  all,  the  pleasantness  of  the  world  as  a 
place  of  residence,  and  the  growing  good  of  the  human 
race,  do  not  depend  exclusively  on  the  Average  English- 
man ;    and   something    may   be    said    for    the    system   of 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        53 

training  which  has  produced,  not  only  all  famous  foreigners 
(for  they,  of  course,  are  a  negligible  quantity),  but  such 
exceptional  Englishmen  as  William  Pitt  and  Thomas 
Macaulay,  and  John  Keble  and  Samuel  Wilberforce,  and 
Richard  Monckton  Milnes. 

From  an  opulent  and  cultivated  home  young  Milnes 
passed  to  the  most  famous  college  in  the  world,  and  found 
himself  under  the  tuition  of  Whewell  and  Thirlwall,  and 
in  the  companionship  of  Alfred  Tennyson  and  Julius  Hare, 
Charles  Buller  and  John  Sterling — a  high-hearted  brotherhood 
who  made  their  deep  mark  on  the  spiritual  and  intellectual 
life  of  their  own  generation  and  of  that  which  succeeded  it. 

After  Cambridge  came  foreign  travel,  on  a  scale  and 
plan  quite  outside  the  beaten  track  of  the  conventional 
**  grand  tour  "  as  our  fathers  knew  it.  From  the  Continent 
Richard  Milnes  brought  back  a  gaiety  of  spirit,  a  frankness 
of  bearing,  a  lightness  of  touch  which  were  quite  un-English, 
and  "a  taste  for  French  novels,  French  cookery,  and 
French  wines"  with  which  Miss  Crawley  would  have 
sympathized.  In  1837  he  entered  Parliament  as  a  "Liberal 
Conservative  "  for  the  Borough  of  Pontefract,  over  which 
his  father  exercised  considerable  influence,  and  he  imme- 
diately became  a  conspicuous  figure  in  the  social  life  of 
London.  A  few  years  later  his  position  and  character 
were  drawn  by  the  hand  of  a  master  in  a  passage  which 
will  well  bear  yet  one  more  reproduction  : — 

"  Mr.  Vavasour  was  a  social  favourite ;  a  poet,  and  a 
real  poet,  and  a  troubadour,  as  well  as  a  Member  of 
Parliament ;  travelled,  sweet-tempered,  and  good-hearted ; 
amusing  and  clever.  With  catholic  sympathies  and  an 
eclectic  turn  of  mind,  Mr.  Vavasour  saw  something  good 
in  everybody  and  everything ;  which  is  certainly  amiable, 
and  perhaps  just,  but  disqualifies  a  man  in  some  degree  for 
the  business  of  life,  which  requires  for  its  conduct  a  certain 
degree    of    prejudice.      Mr.    Vavasour's    breakfasts    were 


54        COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

renowned.  Whatever  your  creed,  class,  or  country — one 
might  almost  add  your  character — you  were  a  welcome 
guest  at  his  matutinal  meal,  provided  you  were  celebrated. 
That  qualification,  however,  was  rigidly  enforced.  A  real 
philosopher,  alike  from  his  genial  disposition  and  from  the 
influence  of  his  rich  and  various  information,  Vavasour 
moved  amid  the  strife,  sympathizing  with  every  one ;  and 
perhaps,  after  all,  the  philanthropy  which  was  his  boast 
was  not  untinged  by  a  dash  of  humour,  of  which  rare  and 
charming  quality  he  possessed  no  inconsiderable  portion. 
Vavasour  liked  to  know  everybody  who  was  known,  and  to 
see  everything  which  ought  to  be  seen.  His  life  was  a 
gyration  of  energetic  curiosity ;  an  insatiable  whirl  of  social 
celebrity.  There  was  not  a  congregation  of  sages  and 
philosophers  in  any  part  of  Europe  which  he  did  not  attend 
as  a  brother.  He  was  present  at  the  camp  of  Kalisch  in 
his  yeomanry  uniform,  and  assisted  at  the  festivals  of 
Barcelona  in  an  Andalusian  jacket.  He  was  everywhere 
and  at  everything :  he  had  gone  down  in  a  diving-bell  and 
gone  up  in  a  balloon.  As  for  his  acquaintances,  he  was 
welcomed  in  every  land ;  his  universal  sympathies  seemed 
omnipotent.  Emperor  and  King,  Jacobin  and  Carbonaro, 
alike  cherished  him.  He  was  the  steward  of  Polish  balls, 
and  the  vindicator  of  Russian  humanity ;  he  dined  with 
Louis  Philippe,  and  gave  dinners  to  Louis  Blanc." 

Lord  Beaconsfield's  penetration  in  reading  character 
and  skill  in  delineating  it  were  never,  I  think,  displayed  to 
better  advantage  than  in  the  foregoing  passage.  Divested 
of  its  intentional  and  humorous  exaggerations,  it  is  not  a 
caricature,  but  a  portrait.  It  exhibits  with  singular  fidelity 
the  qualities  which  made  Lord  Houghton,  to  the  end  of  his 
long  life,  at  once  unique  and  lovable.  We  recognize  the 
overflowing  sympathy,  the  keen  interest  in  life,  the  vivid 
faculty  of  enjoyment,  the  absolute  freedom  from  national 
(  prejudice,  the  love  of  seeing  and  of  being  seen. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   55 

During  the  Chartist  riots  of  1848  Matthew  Arnold  wrote 
to  his  mother :  "  Tell  Miss  Martineau  it  is  said  here  that 
Monckton  Milnes  refused  to  be  sworn  in  a  special  constable, 
that  he  might  be  free  to  assume  the  post  of  President  of  the 
Republic  at  a  moment's  notice."  And  those  who  knew 
Lord  Houghton  best  suspect  that  he  himself  originated  the 
joke  at  his  own  expense.  The  assured  ease  of  young 
Milnes's  social  manner,  even  among  complete  strangers, 
so  unlike  the  morbid  self-repression  and  proud  humility 
of  the  typical  Englishman,  won  for  him  the  nickname  of 
"The  Cool  of  the  Evening."  His  wholly  un-English 
tolerance  and  constant  effort  to  put  himself  in  the  place 
of  others  whom  the  world  condemned,  procured  for  him 
from  Carlyle  (who  genuinely  loved  him)  the  title  of 
"President  of  the  Heaven-and- Hell-Amalgamation  Com- 
pany." Bishop  Wilberforce  wrote,  describing  a  dinner- 
party in  1847  •  "Carlyle  was  very  great.  Monckton  Milnes 
drew  him  out.  Milnes  began  the  young  man's  cant  of  the 
present  day  —  the  barbarity  and  wickedness  of  capital 
punishment;  that,  after  all,  we  could  not  be  sure  others 
were  wicked,  etc.  Carlyle  broke  out  on  him  with,  'None 
of  your  Heaven-and-Hell- Amalgamation  Companies  for  me. 
We  do  know  what  is  wickedness.  /  know  wicked  men,  men 
whom  I  would  not  live  with — men  whom  under  some 
conceivable  circumstances  I  would  kill  or  they  should  kill 
me.  No,  Milnes,  there's*  no  truth  or  greatness  in  all  that. 
It's  just  poor,  miserable  littleness.'" 

Lord  Houghton's  faculty  of  enjoyment  was  peculiarly 
keen.  He  warmed  not  only  both  hands  but  indeed  all 
his  nature  before  the  fire  of  Hfe.  "  All  impulses  of  soul  and 
sense  "  affected  him  with  agreeable  emotions ;  no  pleasure 
of  body  or  spirit  came  amiss  to  him.  And  in  nothing  was 
he  more  characteristically  un-English  than  in  the  frank 
manifestation  of  his  enjoyment,  bubbling  over  with  an 
infectious  jollity,  and  never,  even  when  touched  by  years 


56       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

and  illness,  taking  his  pleasures  after  that  melancholy 
manner  of  our  nation  to  which  it  is  a  point  of  literary 
honour  not  more  directly  to  allude.  Equally  un-English 
was  his  frank  openness  of  speech  and  bearing.  His  address 
was  pre-eminently  what  old-fashioned  people  called  "forth- 
coming," It  was  strikingly  —  even  amusingly  —  free  from 
that  frigid  dignity  and  arrogant  reserve  for  which  as  a 
nation  we  are  so  justly  famed,  I  never  saw  him  kiss  a 
guest  on  both  cheeks,  but  if  I  had  I  should  not  have  felt 
the  least  surprised. 

What  would  have  surprised  me  would  have  been  if  the 
guest  (whatever  his  difference  of  age  or  station)  had  not 
felt  immediately  and  completely  at  home,  or  if  Lord 
Houghton  had  not  seemed  and  spoken  as  if  they  had 
known  one  another  from  the  days  of  short  frocks  and 
skipping-ropes.  There  never  lived  so  perfect  a  host.  His 
sympathy  was  genius,  and  his  hospitality  a  fine  art.  He  was 
peculiarly  sensitive  to  the  claims  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne," 
and  when  a  young  man  came  up  from  Oxford  or  Cambridge 
to  begin  life  in  London,  he  was  certain  to  find  that  Lord 
Houghton  had  travelled  on  the  Continent  with  his  father, 
or  had  danced  with  his  mother,  or  had  made  love  to  his 
aunt,  and  was  eagerly  on  the  look-out  for  an  opportunity 
of  showing  gracious  and  valuable  kindness  to  the  son  of 
his  ancient  friends. 

When  I  first  lived  in  London  Lord  Houghton  was 
occupying  a  house  in  Arlington  Street  made  famous  by 
the  fact  that  Hogarth  drew  its  interior  and  decorations  in 
his  pictures  of  "  Marriage  a  la  Mode."  And  nowhere 
did  the  social  neophyte  receive  a  warmer,  welcome,  or 
find  himself  amid  a  more  eclectic  and  representative 
society.  Queens  of  fashion,  professional  beauties,  authors 
and  authoresses,  ambassadors,  philosophers,  discoverers, 
actors — every  one  who  was  famous  or  even  notorious ; 
who  had  been   anywhere   or   had  done  anything,  from  a 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        57 

successful  speech  in  Parliament  to  a  hazardous  leap  at 
the  Aquarium — jostled  one  another  on  the  wide  staircase 
and  in  the  gravely  ornate  drawing-rooms.  And  amid  the 
motley  crowd  the  genial  host  was  omnipresent,  with  a  warm 
greeting  and  a  twinkling  smile  for  each  successive  guest — a 
good  story,  a  happy  quotation,  the  last  morsel  of  piquant 
gossip,  the  newest  theory  of  ethics  or  of  politics. 

Lord  Houghton's  humour  had  a  quality  which  was  quite 
its  own.  Nothing  was  sacred  to  it — neither  age,  nor  sex, 
nor  subject  was  spared ;  but  it  was  essentially  good-natured. 
It  was  the  property  of  a  famous  spear  to  heal  the  wounds 
which  itself  had  made ;  the  shafts  of  Lord  Houghton's  fun 
needed  no  healing  virtue,  for  they  made  no  wound.  When 
that  saintly  friend  of  temperance  and  all  good  causes,  Mr. 
Cowper-Temple,  was  raised  to  the  peerage  as  Lord  Mount 
Temple,  Lord  Houghton  went  about  saying,  "You  know 
that  the  precedent  for  Billy  Cowper's  title  is  in  Don 
Juan  ? — 

'  And  Lord  Mount  Coffee-house,  the  Irish  peer, 
Who  killed  himself  for  love,  with  drink,  last  year.'" 

When  a  very  impecunious  youth,  who  could  barely  afford 
to  pay  for  his  cab  fares,  lost  a  pound  to  him  at  whist,  Lord 
Houghton  said,  as  he  pocketed  the  coin,  "Ah,  my  dear 
.  boy,  the  great  Lord  Hertford,  whom  foolish  people  called 
the  wicked  Lord  Hertford — Thackeray's  Steyne  and  Dizzy's 
Monmouth — used  to  say,  '  There  is  no  pleasure  in  winning 
money  from  a  man  who  does  not  feel  it.'  How  true  that 
was ! "  And  when  he  saw  a  young  friend  at  a  club  supping 
on  pdt^  de  foie  gras  axid  champagne,  he  said  encouragingly, 
"  That's  quite  right.  All  the  pleasant  things  in  life  are  un- 
wholesome, or  expensive,  or  wrong."  And  amid  these  rather 
grim  morsels  of  experimental  philosophy  he  would  interject 
certain  obiier  dicta  which  came  straight  from  the  unspoiled 
goodness  of  a  really  kind  heart.     "  All  men  are  improved 


58       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

by  prosperity,"  he  used  to  say.  Envy,  hatred,  and  malice 
had  no  place  in  his  nature.  It  was  a  positive  enjoyment 
to  him  to  see  other  people  happy,  and  a  friend's  success 
was  as  gratifying  as  his  own.  His  life,  though  in  most 
respects  singularly  happy,  had  not  been  without  its  dis- 
appointments. At  one  time  he  had  nursed  political  ambi- 
tions, and  his  peculiar  knowledge  of  foreign  affairs  had 
seemed  to  indicate  a  special  line  of  activity  and  success. 
But  things  went  differently.  He  always  professed  to  regard 
his  peerage  as  "a  Second  Class  in  the  School  of  Life,"  and 
himself  as  a  political  failure.  Yet  no  tinge  of  sourness,  or 
jealousy,  or  cynical  disbelief  in  his  more  successful  corn- 
temporaries  ever  marred  the  geniality  of  his  political 
conversation. 

As  years  advanced  he  became  not  (as  the  manner  of 
most  men  is)  less  Liberal,  but  more  so ;  keener  in  sympathy 
with  all  popular  causes ;  livelier  in  his  indignation  against 
monopoly  and  injustice.  Thirty  years  ago,  in  the  struggle 
for  the  Reform  Bill  of  1866,  his  character  and  position 
were  happily  hit  off  by  Sir  George  Trevelyan  in  a  description 
of  a  walk  down  Piccadilly  : — 

"  There  on  warm  midsummer  Sundays  Fryston's  Bard  is  wont  to  wend. 
Whom  the  Ridings  trust  and  honour,  Freedom's  staunch  and  jovial 

friend : 
Loved   where   shrewd   hard  -  handed   craftsmen   cluster   round    the 

northern  kilns — 
He  whom  men  style   Baron  Houghton,  but  the  Gods  call  Dicky 

Milnes." 

And  eighteen  years  later  there  was  a  whimsical  pathos  in 
the  phrase  in  which  he  announced  his  fatal  illness  to  a 
friend:  "Yes,  I  am  going  to  join  the  Majority — and  you 
know  I  have  always  preferred  Minorities." 

It  would  be  foreign  to  my  purpose  to  criticize  Lord 
Houghton  as  a  poet.  My  object  in  these  chapters  is 
merely  to  record  the  characteristic  traits  of  eminent  men 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        59 

who  have  honoured  me  with  their  friendship,  and  among 
those  there  is  none  for  whose  memory  I  cherish  a  warmer 
sentiment  of  affectionate  gratitude  than  for  him  whose 
likeness  I  have  now  tried  to  sketch.  His  was  the  most 
precious  of  combinations — a  genius  and  a  heart.  An 
estimate  of  his  Hterary  gifts  and  performances  lies  altogether 
outside  my  scope,  but  the  political  circumstances  of  the 
present  hour*  impel  me  to  conclude  this  paper  with  a 
quotation  which,  even  if  it  stood  alone,  would,  I  think, 
justify  Lord  Beaconsfield's  judgment  quoted  above — that 
"  he  was  a  poet,  and  a  true  poet."  Here  is  the  lyrical  cry 
which,  writing  in  1843,  ^^  P"^s  into  the  mouth  of  Greece  : — 

"  And  if  to  his  old  Asian  seat, 

From  this  usurped,  unnatural  throne, 
The  Turk  is  driven,  'tis  surely  meet 

That  we  again  should  hold  our  own  ; 
Be  but  Byzantium's  native  sign 

Of  Cross  on  Crescent  t  once  unfurled, 
And  Greece  shall  guard  by  right  divine 

The  portals  of  the  Eastern  world." 

*  March  1897.  , 

t  The  Turks  adopted  the  sign  of  the  Crescent  from  Byzantium  after 
the  Conquest :  the  Cross  above  the  Crescent  is  found  on  many  ruins 
of  the  Grecian  city — among  others,  on  the  Genoese  castle  on  the 
Bosphorus. 


VI. 

RELIGION  AND  MORALITY. 

IN  these  chapters  I  have  been  trying  to  recall  some  notable 
people  through  whom  I  have  been  brought  into  contact 
with  the  social  life  of  the  past.  I  now  propose  to  give  the 
impressions  which  they  conveyed  to  me  of  the  moral, 
material,  and  political  condition  of  England  just  at  the 
moment  when  the  old  order  was  yielding  place  to  new,  and 
modern  Society  was  emerging  from  the  birth-throes  of  the 
French  Revolution.  All  testimony  seems  to  me  to  point 
to  the  fact  that  towards  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century 
Religion  was  almost  extinct  in  the  highest  and  lowest  classes 
of  English  society.  The  poor  were  sunk  in  ignorance  and 
barbarism,  and  the  aristocracy  was  honeycombed  by  prof- 
ligacy. Morality,  discarded  alike  by  high  and  low,  took 
refuge  in  the  great  Middle  Class,  then,  as  now,  deeply 
influenced  by  Evangelical  Dissent.  A  dissolute  Heir- 
Apparent  presided  over  a  social  system  in  which  not  merely 
religion  but  decency  was  habitually  disregarded.  At  his 
wedding  he  was  so  drunk  that  his  attendant  dukes  "could 
scarcely  support  him  from  falling."*  The  Princes  of  the 
Blood  were  notorious  for  a  freedom  of  life  and  manners 
which  would  be  ludicrous  if  it  were  not  shocking.  Here  I 
may  cite  an  unpublished  diary  t  of  Lord  Robert  Seymour 

*  Lord  Holland's  Memoirs  of  the  Whig  Party,  ii.  p.  123. 
t  The  property  of  Colonel  Davies-Evans  of  Highmead. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.       6i 

(son  of  the  first  Marquis  of  Hertford),  who  was  born  in  1 748 
and  died  in  1831.  He  was  a  man  of  fashion  and  a  Member 
of  Parliament ;  and  these  are  some  of  the  incidents  which 
he  notes  in  1788  : — 

"The  Prince  of  Wales  declares  there  is  not  an  honest 
Woman  in  London,  excepting  Ly.  Parker  and  Ly.  West- 
moreland, and  those  are  so  stupid  he  can  make  nothing  of 
them  ;  they  are  scarcely  fit  to  blow  their  own  Noses." 

"At  Mrs.  Vaneck's  assembly  last  week,  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  very  much  to  the  honour  of  his  polite  and  elegant 
Behaviour,  measured  the  breadth  of  Mrs.  V.  behind  with  his 
Handkerchief,  and  shew'd  the  measurement  to  most  of  the 
Company." 

"  Another  Trait  of  the  P.  of  Wales's  Respectful  Conduct 
is  that  at  an  assembly  he  beckoned  to  the  poor  old  Dutchess 
of  Bedford  across  a  large  Room,  and,  when  she  had  taken 
the  trouble  of  crossing  the  Room,  he  very  abruptly  told  her 
he  had  nothing  to  say  to  her." 

"The  Prince  of  Wales  very  much  affronted  the  D.  of 
Orleans  and  his  natural  Brother,  L'Abbe  de  la  Fai,  at  New- 
market, L'Abb^  declaring  it  possible  to  charm  a  Fishout  of  the 
Water,  which  being  disputed  occasioned  a  Bett;  and  the  Abbe 
stooped  down  over  the  water  to  tickle  the  Fish  with  a  little 
switch.  Fearing,  however,  the  Prince  s**.  play  him  some 
Trick,  he  declared  he  hoped  the  P.  w''.  not  use  him  unfairly 
by  throwing  him  into  the  water.  The  P.  answer'd  him  that 
he  w**.  not  upon  his  Honor.  The  Abbe  had  no  sooner  began 
the  operation  by  leaning  over  a  little  Bridge  when  the  P. 
took  hold  of  his  Heels  and  threw  him  into  the  Water,  which 
was  rather  deep.  The  Abbe,  much  enraged,  the  moment 
he  got  himself  out  run  at  the  P.  with  g.  violence,  a  Horse- 
whip in  his  Hand,  saying  he  thought  very  meanly  of  a  P. 
who  cou'd  not  keep  his  word.  The  P.  flew  fr.  him,  and 
getting  to  the  Inn  locked  himself  in  one  of  the  Rooms." 

"  Prince    of  Wales,    Mrs.    Fitzherbert,    the    Duke    and 


62     .  COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Dutchess  of  Cumberland,  and  Miss  Pigott,  Mrs.  F.'s  com- 
panion, went  a  Party  to  Windsor  during  the  absence  of 
The  Family  fm.  Windsor;  and  going  to  see  a  cold  Bath, 
Miss  P.  expressed  a  great  wish  to  bathe  this  hot  weather. 
The  D.  of  C.  very  imprudently  pushed  her  in,  and  the  Dut. 
of  C.  having  the  presence  of  mind  to  throw  out  the  Rope 
saved  her  when  in  such  a  disagreeable  State  from  fear  and 
surprise  as  to  be  near  sinking.  Mrs.  F.  went  into  convulsion 
Fits,  and  the  Dut.  fainted  away,  and  the  scene  proved  ridic- 
ulous in  the  extreme,  as  Report  says  the  Duke  called  out 
to  Miss  P.  that  he  was  instantly  coming  to  her  in  the  water, 
and  continued  undressing  himself.  Poor  Miss  P.'s  clothes 
entirely  laid  upon  the  Water,  and  made  her  appear  an 
awkward  figure.  They  afterwards  pushed  in  one  of  the 
Prince's  attendants." 

So  much  for  High  Life  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  It  is  more  difficult  to  realize  that  we  are  separated 
only  by  some  sixty  years  from  a  time  when  a  Cabinet  Minister 
and  a  brother  of  the  Sovereign  conducted  a  business-like 
correspondence  on  the  question  whether  the  Minister  had 
or  had  not  turned  the  Prince  out  of  the  house  for  insulting 
his  wife.  The  journals,  newspapers,  and  memoirs  of  the 
time  throw  (especially  for  those  who  can  read  between  the 
lines)  a  startling  light  on  that  hereditary  principle  which 
plays  so  important  a  part  in  our  political  system.  All  the 
ancillary  vices  flourished  with  a  rank  luxuriance.  Hard 
drinking  was  the  indispensable  accomplishment  of  a  fine 
gentleman,  and  great  estates  were  constantly  changing 
owners  at  the  gaming-table. 

The  fifth  Duke  of  Bedford  (who  had  the  temerity  to 
attack  Burke's  pension,  and  thereby  drew  down  upon  him- 
self the  most  splendid  repartee  in  literature)  was  a  bosom- 
friend  of  Fox,  and  lived  in  a  like-minded  society.  One 
night  at  Newmarket  he  lost  a  colossal  sum  at  hazard,  and, 
jumping  up  in  a  passion,  he  swore  that  the  dice  were  loaded, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        63 

put  them  in  his  pocket,  and  went  to  bed.  Next  morning 
he  examined  the  dice  in  the  presence  of  his  boon  com- 
panions, found  that  they  were  not  loaded,  and  had  to 
apologize  and  pay.  Some  years  afterwards  one  of  the  party 
was  lying  on  his  death-bed,  and  he  sent  for  the  duke.  "  I 
have  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  that  you  were  right.  The  dice 
were  loaded.  We  waited  till  you  were  asleep,  went  to  your 
bedroom,  took  them  out  of  your  waistcoat  pocket,  replaced 
them  with  unloaded  ones,  and  retired." 

"  But  suppose  I  had  woke  and  caught  you  doing  it." 
"  Well,  we  were  desperate  men — and  we  had  pistols  P 
Anecdotes  of  the  same  type  might  be  multiplied  endlessly, 
and  would  serve  to  confirm  the  strong  impression  which  all 
contemporary  evidence  leaves  upon  the  mind — that  the 
closing  years  of  the  eighteenth  century  witnessed  the  nadir 
of  English  virtue.  The  national  conscience  was  in  truth 
asleep,  and  it  had  a  rude  awakening.  "  I  have  heard 
persons  of  great  weight  and  authority,"  writes  Mr.  Gladstone, 
"such  as  Mr.  Grenville,  and  also,  I  think.  Archbishop 
Howley,  ascribe  the  beginnings  of  a  reviving  seriousness  in 
the  upper  classes  of  lay  society  to  a  reaction  against  the 
horrors  and  impieties  of  the  first  French  Revolution  in  its 
later  stages."  And  this  reviving  seriousness  was  by  no 
means  confined  to  Nonconformist  circles.  In  the  eighteenth 
century  the  religious  activities  of  the  time  proceeded  largely 
(though  not  exclusively)  from  persons  who,  from  one  cause 
or  another,  were  separated  from  the  Established  Church. 
Much  theological  learning  and  controversial  skill,  with  the 
old  traditions  of  Anglican  divinity,  had  been  drawn  aside 
from  the  highway  of  the  Establishment  into  the  secluded 
byways  of  the  Nonjurors.  Whitefield  and  the  Wesleys,  and 
that  grim  but  grand  old  Mother  in  Israel,  Selina  Countess 
of  Huntingdon,  found  their  evangelistic  energies  fatally 
cramped  by  episcopal  authority,  and,  quite  against  their 
natural  inclinations,  were  forced  to  act  through  independent 


64       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

organizations  of  their  own  making.     But  at  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century  things  took  a  different  turn. 

The  distinguishing  mark  of  the  religious  revival  which 
issued  from  the  French  Revolution  was  that  it  lived  and 
moved  and  had  its  being  within  the  precincts  of  the  Church 
of  England.  Of  that  Church,  as  it  existed  at  the  close  of 
the  eighteenth  century  and  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth, 
the  characteristic  feature  had  been  a  quiet  worldliness.  The 
typical  clergyman,  as  drawn,  for  instance,  in  Crabbe's  poems 
and  Miss  Austen's  novels,  is  a  well-bred,  respectable,  and 
kindly  person,  playing  an  agreeable  part  in  the  social  life 
of  his  neighbourhood,  and  doing  a  secular  work  of  solid 
value,  but  equally  removed  from  the  sacerdotal  pretensions 
of  the  Caroline  divines  and  from  the  awakening  fervour  of 
the  Evangelical  preachers.  The  professors  of  a  more 
spiritual  or  a  more  aggressive  religion  were  at  once  disliked 
and  despised.  Sydney  Smith  was  never  tired  of  poking  fun 
at  the  "  sanctified  village  of  Clapham  "  and  its  "  serious " 
inhabitants,  at  missionary  effort  and  revivalist  enthusiasm. 
When  Lady  Louisa  Lennox  was  engaged  to  a  prominent 
Evangelical  and  Liberal — Mr.  Tighe  of  Woodstock — her 
mother,  the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  said,  "Poor  Louisa 
is  going  to  make  a  shocking  marriage — a  man  called  Tiggy, 
my  dear,  a  Saint  and  a  Radical."  When  Lord  Melbourne 
had  accidently  found  himself  the  unwilling  hearer  of  a 
rousing  Evangelical  sermon  about  sin  and  its  consequences, 
he  exclaimed  in  much  disgust  as  he  left  the  church, 
"Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when  religion  is 
allowed  to  invade  the  sphere  of  private  life ! " 

Arthur  Young  tells  us  that  a  daughter  of  the  first  Lord 
Carrington  said  to  a  visitor,  "  My  papa  used  to  have 
prayers  in  his  family,  but  none  since  he  has  been  a  Peer." 
A  venerable  Canon  of  Windsor,  who  was  a  younger  son  of 
a  great  family,  told  me  that  his  old  nurse,  when  she  was 
putting   him  and  his  little  brothers  to  bed,  used  to  say, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   65 

"If  you're  very  good  little  boys,  and  go  to  bed  without 
giving  trouble,  you  needn't  say  your  prayers  to-night." 
When  the  late  Lord  Mount  Temple  was  a  youth,  he  wished 
to  take  Holy  Orders ;  and  the  project  so  horrified  his 
parents  that,  after  holding  a  family  council,  they  plunged 
him  into  fashionable  society  in  the  hope  of  distracting  his 
mind  from  religion,  and  accomplished  their  end  by  making 
him  join  the  Blues. 

The  quiet  worldliness  which  characterized  the  English 
Church  as  a  whole  was  unpleasantly  varied  here  and  there 
by  instances  of  grave  and  monstrous  scandal.  The  system 
of  Pluralities  left  isolated  parishes  in  a  condition  of  practical 
heathenism.  Even  bare  morality  was  not  always  observed. 
In  solitary  places  clerical  drunkenness  was  common.  On 
Saturday  afternoon  the  parson  would  return  from  the 
nearest  town  "  market-merry."  He  consorted  freely  with 
the  farmers,  shared  their  habits,  and  spoke  their  language. 
I  have  known  a  lady  to  whom  a  country  clergyman  said, 
pointing  to  the  darkened  windows  where  a  corpse  lay 
awaiting  burial,  "There's  a  stiff  'un  in  that  house."  I 
have  known  a  country  gentleman  in  Shropshire  who  had 
seen  his  own  vicar  drop  the  chalice  at  the  Holy  Communion 
because  he  was  too  drunk  to  hold  it.  I  know  a  corner  of 
Bedfordshire  where,  within  the  recollection  of  persons 
living  thirty  *  years  ago,  three  clerical  neighbours  used  to 
meet  for  dinner  at  one  another's  parsonages  in  turn.  One 
winter  afternoon  a  corpse  was  brought  for  burial  to  the 
village  church.  The  vicar  of  the  place  came  from  his 
dinner  so  drunk  that  he  could  not  read  the  service, 
although  his  sister  supported  him  with  one  hand  and  held 
the  lantern  with  the  other.  He  retired  beaten,  and  both 
his  guests  made  the  same  attempt  with  no  better  success. 
So  the  corpse  was  left  in  the  church,  and  the  vicar  buried 
it  next  day  when  he  had  recovered  from  his  debauch. 
*  Written  in  1897. 


66       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

While  the  prevailing  tone  of  quiet  worldliness  was  thus 
broken,  here  and  there,  by  horrid  scandals,  in  other  places 
it  was  conspicuously  relieved  by  splendid  instances  of  piety 
and  self-devotion,  such  as  George  Eliot  drew  in  the 
character  of  Edgar  Tryan  of  Milby.  But  the  innovating 
clergy  of  the  Evangelical  persuasion  had  to  force  their  way 
through  "the  teeth  of  clenched  antagonisms."  The 
bishops,  as  a  rule,  were  opposed  to  enthusiasm,  and  the 
bishops  of  that  day  were,  in  virtue  of  their  wealth,  their 
secular  importance,  and  their  professional  cohesiveness,  a 
formidable  force  in  the  life  of  the  Church. 

In  the  "good  old  days"  of  Erastian  Churchmanship, 
before  the  Catholic  revival  had  begun  to  breathe  new  life 
into  ancient  forms,  a  bishop  was  enthroned  by  proxy ! 
Sydney  Smith,  rebuking  Archbishop  Howley  for  his  undue 
readiness  to  surrender  cathedral  property  to  the  Ecclesi- 
astical Commission,  pointed  out  that  his  conduct  was 
inconsistent  with  having  sworn  at  his  enthronement  that 
he  would  not  alienate  the  possessions  of  the  Church  of 
Canterbury.  "The  oath,"  he  goes  on,  "may  be  less 
present  to  the  Archbishop's  memory  from  the  fact  of  his 
not  having  taken  the  oath  in  person,  but  by  the  medium  of 
a  gentleman  sent  down  by  the  coach  to  take  it  for  him — 
a  practice  which,  though  I  believe  it  to  have  been  long 
established  in  the  Church,  surprised  me,  I  confess,  not 
a  little.  A  proxy  to  vote,  if  you  please — a  proxy  to  consent 
to  arrangements  of  estates,  if  wanted ;  but  a  proxy  sent 
down  in  the  Canterbury  Fly  to  take  the  Creator  to  witness 
that  the  Archbishop,  detained  in  town  by  business  or 
pleasure,  will  never  violate  that  foundation  of  piety  over 
which  he  presides — all  this  seems  to  me  an  act  of  the  most 
extraordinary  indolence  ever  recorded  in  history."  In  this 
judgment  the  least  ritualistic  of  laymen  will  heartily 
concur.  But  from  Archbishop  Howley  to  Archbishop 
Temple  is  a  far  cry,  and  the  latest  enthronement  in  Canter- 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.       67 

bury  Cathedral  must  have  made  clear  to  the  most  casual 
eye  the  enormous  transformation  which  sixty  years  have 
wrought  alike  in  the  inner  temper  and  the  outward  aspect 
of  the  Church  of  England. 

Once  Dr.  Liddon,  walking  with  me  down  the  hall  of 
Christ  Church,  pointed  to  the  portrait  of  an  extremely 
bloated  and  sensual-looking  prelate  on  the  wall,  and  said, 
with  that  peculiar  kind  of  mincing  precision  which  added 
so  much  to  the  point  of  his  sarcasms,  "How  singular,  dear 
friend,  to  reflect  that  that  person  was  chosen,  in  the  provi- 
dential order,  to  connect  Mr.  Keble  with  the  Apostles  ! " 
And  certainly  this  connecting  link  bore  little  resemblance 
to  either  end  of  the  chain.  The  considerations  which 
governed  the  selection  of  a  bishop  in  those  good  old  days 
were  indeed  not  a  little  singular.  Perhaps  he  was  chosen 
because  he  was  a  sprig  of  good  family,  like  Archbishop 
Cornwallis,  whose  junketings  at  Lambeth  drew  down  upon 
him  the  ire  of  Lady  Huntingdon  and  the  threats  of  George 
III.,  and  whose  sole  qualification  for  the  clerical  office  was 
that  when  an  undergraduate  he  had  suffered  from  a  stroke 
of  palsy  which  partially  crippled  him,  but  ^Mid  not,  how- 
ever, prevent  him  from  holding  a  hand  at  cards."  Perhaps 
he  had  been,  like  Bishop  Sumner,  "bear-leader"  to  a  great 
man's  son,  and  had  won  the  gratitude  of  a  powerful  patron 
by  extricating  young  hopeful  from  a  matrimonial  scrape. 
Perhaps,  like  Marsh  or  Van  Mildert,  he  was  a  controversial 
pamphleteer  who  had  tossed  a  Calvinist  or  gored  an 
Evangelical.  Or  perhaps  he  was,  like  Blomfield  and  Monk, 
a  "Greek  Play  Bishop,"  who  had  annotated  .^schylus  or 
composed  a  Sapphic  Ode  on  a  Royal  marriage.  "Young 
Crumpet  is  sent  to  school ;  takes  to  his  books ;  spends  the 
best  years  of  his  life  in  making  Latin  verses ;  knows  that 
the  Crum  in  Crumpet  is  long  and  the  pet  short ;  goes  to 
the  University ;  gets  a  prize  for  an  Essay  on  the  Dispersion 
of  the  Jews ;  takes  Orders ;  becomes  a  bishop's  chaplain ; 


68       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

has  a  young  nobleman  for  his  pupil;  publishes  a  useless 
classic  and  a  Serious  Call  to  the  Unconverted;  and  then 
goes  through  the  Elysian  transitions  of  Prebendary,  Dean, 
Prelate,  and  the  long  train  of  purple,  profit,  and  power." 

Few — and  very  few — are  the  adducible  instances  in 
which,  in  the  reigns  of  George  IIL,  George  IV.,  and 
William  IV.,  a  bishop  was  appointed  for  evangelistic  zeal 
or  pastoral  efficiency. 

But,  on  whatever  principle  chosen,  the  bishop,  once  duly 
consecrated  and  enthroned,  was  a  formidable  person,  and 
surrounded  by  a  dignity  scarcely  less  than  royal.  "  Nobody 
likes  our  bishop,"  says  Parson  Lingon  in  Felix  Holt. 
"  He's  all  Greek  and  greediness,  and  too  proud  to  dine 
with  his  own  father."  People  still  living  can  remember  the 
days  when  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  was  preceded 
by  servants  bearing  flambeaux  when  he  walked  across  from 
Lambeth  Chapel  to  what  were  called  "  Mrs.  Howley's 
Lodgings."  When  the  Archbishop  dined  out  he  was 
treated  with  princely  honours,  and  no  one  left  the  party  till 
His  Grace  had  made  his  bow.  Once  a  week  he  dined 
in  state  in  the  great  hall  of  Lambeth,  presiding  over  a 
company  of  self-invited  guests — strange  perversion  of  the 
old  archiepiscopal  charity  to  travellers  and  the  poor — while, 
as  Sydney  Smith  said,  "  the  domestics  of  the  prelacy  stood, 
with  swords  and  bag-wigs,  round  pig  and  turkey  and  venison, 
to  defend,  as  it  were,  the  orthodox  gastronome  from  the 
fierce  Unitarian,  the  fell  Baptist,  and  all  the  famished 
children  of  Dissent."  When  Sir  John  Coleridge,  father 
of  the  late  Lord  Chief  Justice,  was  a  young  man  at  the 
Bar,  he  wished  to  obtain  a  small  legal  post  in  the  Arch- 
bishop's Prerogative  Court.  An  influential  friend  under- 
took to  forward  his  application  to  the  Archbishop.  "  But 
remember,"  he  said,  "in  writing  your  letter,  that  his  Grace 
can  only  be  approached  on  gilt-edged  paper."  Archbishop 
Harcourt  never  went  from  Bishopthorpe  to  York  Minster 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        69 

except  attended  by  his  chaplains,  in  a  coach  and  six,  while 
Lady  Anne  was  made  to  follow  in  a  pair-horse  carriage,  to 
show  her  that  her  position  was  not  the  same  thing  among 
women  that  her  husband's  was  among  men.  At  Durham, 
which  was  worth  ;^4o,ooo  a  year,  the  Bishop,  as  Prince 
Palatine,  exercised  a  secular  jurisdiction,  both  civil  and 
criminal,  and  the  Commission  at  the  Assizes  ran  in  the 
name  of  "  Our  Lord  the  Bishop."  At  Ely,  Bishop  Sparke 
gave  so  many  of  his  best  livings  to  his  family  that  it  was 
locally  said  that  you  could  find  your  way  across  the  Fens 
on  a  dark  night  by  the  number  of  little  Sparkes  along 
the  road.  When  this  good  prelate  secured  a  residential 
canonry  for  his  eldest  son,  the  event  was  so  much  a  matter 
of  course  that  he  did  not  deem  it  worthy  of  special  notice ; 
but  when  he  secured  a  second  canonry  for  his  second  son, 
he  was  so  filled  with  pious  gratitude  that,  as  a  thank- 
offering,  he  gave  a  ball  at  the  Palace  of  Ely  to  all  the 
county  of  Cambridge.  "And  I  think,"  said  Bishop  Wood- 
ford, in  telHng  me  the  story,  "that  the  achievement  and 
the  way  of  celebrating  it  were  equally  remarkable." 

This  grand  tradition  of  mingled  splendour  and  profit 
ran  down,  in  due  degree,  through  all  ranks  of  the 
hierarchy.  The  poorer  bishoprics  were  commonly  held 
in  conjunction  with  a  rich  deanery  or  prebend,  and  not 
seldom  with  some  important  living;  so  that  the  most 
impecunious  successor  of  the  Apostles  could  manage  to 
have  four  horses  to  his  carriage  and  his  daily  bottle  of 
Madeira.  Not  so  splendid  as  a  palace,  but  quite  as  com- 
fortable, was  a  first-class  deanery.  A  "Golden  Stall"  at 
Durham  or  St.  Paul's  made  its  occupant  a  rich  man.  And 
even  the  rectors  of  the  more  opulent  parishes  contrived  to 
"live,"  as  the  phrase  went,  "very  much  like  gentleman." 

The  old  Prince  Bishops  are  as  extinct  as  the  dodo.  The 
Ecclesiastical  Commission  has  made  an  end  of  them. 
Bishop  Sumner  of  Winchester,  who  died  in  1874,  was  the 


70       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

last  of  his  race.  But  the  dignified  country  clergyman,  who 
combined  private  means  with  a  rich  living,  did  his  county 
business  in  person,  and  performed  his  religious  duties  by 
deputy,  survived  into  very  recent  times.  I  have  known  a 
fine  old  specimen  of  this  class — a  man  who  never  entered 
his  church  on  a  week-day,  nor  wore  a  white  neckcloth 
except  on  Sunday ;  who  was  an  active  magistrate,  a  keen 
sportsman,  an  acknowledged  authority  on  horticulture  and 
farming ;  and  who  boasted  that  he  had  never  written  a 
sermon  in  his  life,  but  could  alter  one  with  any  man  in 
England — which,  in  truth,  he  did  so  effectively  that  the 
author  would  never  have  recognized  his  own  handiwork. 
When  the  neighbouring  parsons  first  tried  to  get  up  a 
periodical  "  clerical  meeting  "  for  the  study  of  theology,  he 
responded  genially  to  the  suggestion  :  "  Oh  yes ;  I  think 
it  sounds  a  capital  thing,  and  I  suppose  we  shall  finish  up 
with  a  rubber  and  a  bit  of  supper." 

The  reverence  in  which  a  rector  of  this  type  was  held, 
and  the  difference,  not  merely  of  degree  but  of  kind,  which 
was  supposed  to  separate  him  from  the  inferior  order  of 
curates,  were  amusingly  exemplified  in  the  case  of  an  old 
friend  of  mine.  Returning  to  his  parish  after  his  autumn 
holiday,  and  noticing  a  woman  at  her  cottage  door  with 
a  baby  in  her  arms,  he  asked,  "  Has  that  child  been 
baptized?"  "Well,  sir,"  replied  the  curtsying  mother, 
"I  shouldn't  like  to  say  as  much  as  that;  but  your  young 
man  came  and  did  what  he  could.''' 

Lost  in  these  entrancing  recollections  of  Anglicanism  as 
it  once  was,  but  will  never  be  again,  I  have  wandered  far 
from  my  theme.  I  began  by  saying  that  all  one  has  read, 
all  one  has  heard,  all  one  has  been  able  to  collect  by  study 
or  by  conversation,  points  to  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century  as  the  low-water  mark  of  English  religion  and 
morality.  The  first  thirty  years  of  the  nineteenth  century 
witnessed  a  great  revival,  due  chiefly  to  the  Evangelical 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        71 

movement,  and  not  only,  as  in  the  previous  century,  on 
lines  outside  the  Establishment,  but  in  the  very  heart  and 
core  of  the  Church  of  England.  That  movement,  though 
little  countenanced  by  ecclesiastical  authority,  changed  the 
whole  tone  of  religious  thought  and  life  in  England.  It 
recalled  men  to  serious  ideas  of  faith  and  duty ;  it  curbed 
profligacy,  it  made  decency  fashionable,  it  revived  the 
external  usages  of  piety,  and  it  prepared  the  way  for  that 
later  movement  which,  issuing  from  Oxford  in  1833,  has 
transfigured  the  Church  of  England. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  say,"  wrote  Mr.  Gladstone  in  1879, 
"that  the  founders  of  the  Oxford  School  announced,  or 
even  that  they  knew,  to  how  large  an  extent  they  were  to 
be  pupils  and  continuators  of  the  Evangelical  work,  besides 
being  something  else.  .  .  .  Their  distinctive  speech  was 
of  Church  and  priesthood,  of  Sacraments  and  services,  as 
the  vesture  under  the  varied  folds  of  which  the  Form  of 
the  Divine  Redeemer  was  to  be  exhibited  to  the  world 
in  a  way  capable  of,  and  suited  for,  transmission  by  a 
collective  body  from  generation  to  generation.  It  may 
well  have  happened  that,  in  straining  to  secure  for  their 
ideas  what  they  thought  their  due  place,  some  at  least 
may  have  forgotten  or  disparaged  that  personal  and  experi- 
mental life  of  the  human  soul  with  God  which  profits  by 
all  ordinances  but  is  tied  to  none,  dwelling  ever,  through 
all  its  varying  moods,  in  the  inner  courts  of  the  sanctuary 
whereof  the  walls  are  not  built  with  hands.  The  only 
matter,  however,  with  which  I  am  now  concerned  is  to 
record  the  fact  that  the  pith  and  life  of  the  Evangelical 
teaching,  as  it  consists  in  the  reintroduction  of  Christ 
our  Lord  to  be  the  woof  and  warp  of  preaching,  was  the 
great  gift  of  the  movement  to  the  teaching  Church,  and 
has  now  penetrated  and  possessed  it  on  a  scale  so  general 
that  it  may  be  considered  as  pervading  the  whole  mass." 


VII. 

SOCIAL   EQUALIZATION. 

TT  was  a  characteristic  saying  of  Talleyrand  that  no  one 
•*•  could  conceive  how  pleasant  life  was  capable  of  being 
who  had  not  belonged  to  the  French  aristocracy  before  the 
Revolution.  There  were,  no  doubt,  in  the  case  of  that 
great  man's  congeners  some  legal  and  constitutional  pre- 
rogatives which  rendered  their  condition  supremely  envi- 
able; but  so  far  as  splendour,  stateliness,  and  exclusive 
privilege  are  elements  of  a  pleasant  life,  he  might  have 
extended  his  remark  to  England.  Similar  conditions  of 
social  existence  here  and  in  France  were  similarly  and 
simultaneously  transformed  by  the  same  tremendous  up- 
heaval which  marked  the  final  disappearance  of  the  feudal 
spirit  and  the  birth  of  the  modern  world. 

The  old  order  passed  away,  and  the  face  of  human  society 
was  made  new.  The  law-abiding  and  temperate  genius  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  race  saved  England  from  the  excesses, 
the  horrors,  and  the  dramatic  incidents  which  marked  this 
period  of  transition  in  France;  but  though  more  quietly 
eflfected,  the  change  in  England  was  not  less  marked,  less 
momentous,  or  less  permanent  than  on  the  Continent.  I 
have  spoken  in  a  former  chapter  of  the  religious  revival 
which  was  the  most  striking  result  in  England  of  the 
Revolution  in  France.  To-day  I  shall  say  a  word  about 
another  result,  or  group  of  results,  which  may  be  summarized 
as  Social  Equalization. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        73 

The  barriers  between  ranks  and  classes  were  to  a  large 
extent  broken  down.  The  prescriptive  privileges  of  aris- 
tocracy were  reduced.  The  ceremoniousness  of  social  de- 
meanour was  diminished.  Great  men  were  content  with 
less  elaboration  and  display  in  their  retinues,  equipages,  and 
mode  of  living.  Dress  lost  its  richness  of  ornament  and 
its  distinctive  characteristics.  Young  men  of  fashion  no 
longer  bedizened  themselves  in  velvet,  brocade,  and  gold 
lace.  Knights  of  the  Garter  no  longer  displayed  the  Blue 
Ribbon  in  Parliament.  Officers  no  longer  went  into 
society  with  uniform  and  sword.  Bishops  laid  aside  their 
wigs ;  dignified  clergy  discarded  the  cassock.  Coloured 
coats^  silk  stockings,  lace  ruffles,  and  hair-powder  survived 
only  in  the  footmen's  liveries.  When  the  Reform  Bill  of 
1832  received  the  Royal  Assent,  the  Lord  Bathurst  of  the 
period,  who  had  been  a  member  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
Cabinet,  solemnly  cut  off  his  pigtail,  saying,  "  Ichabod,  for 
the  glory  is  departed  ; "  and  to  the  first  Reformed  Parlia- 
ment only  one  pigtail  was  returned  (it  pertained  to  Mr. 
Sheppard,  M.P.  for  Frome) — an  impressive  symbol  of  social 
transformation. 

The  lines  of  demarcation  between  the  peerage  and  the 
untitled  classes  were  partially  obliterated.  How  clear  and 
rigid  those  lines  had  been  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  conceive. 
In  Humphrey  Clinker  the  nobleman  refuses  to  fight  a  duel 
with  the  squire  on  the  ground  of  their  social  inequality. 
Mr.  Wilberforce  declined  a  peerage  because  it  would  exclude 
his  sons  from  intimacy  with  private  gentlemen,  clergymen, 
and  mercantile  families.  I  have  stated  in  a  previous 
chapter  that  Lord  Bathurst,  who  was  born  in  1791,  told  me 
that  at  his  private  school  he  and  the  other  sons  of  peers 
sate  together  on  a  privileged  bench  apart  from  the  rest  of 
the  boys.  A  typical  aristocrat  was  the  first  Marquis  of 
Abercorn.  He  died  in  181 8,  but  he  is  still  revered  in 
Ulster  under  the  name  of  "The  Owld  Marquis."     This 

4 


74       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

admirable  nobleman  always  went  out  shooting  in  his  Blue 
Ribbon,  and  required  his  housemaids  to  wear  white  kid 
gloves  when  they  made  his  bed.  Before  he  married  his 
first  cousin,  Miss  Cecil  Hamilton,  he  induced  the  Crown 
to  confer  on  her  the  titular  rank  of  an  Earl's  daughter,  that 
he  might  not  marry  beneath  his  position ;  and  when  he 
discovered  that  she  contemplated  eloping,  he  sent  a  message 
begging  her  to  take  the  family  coach,  as  it  ought  never  to 
be  said  that  Lady  Abercorn  left  her  husband's  roof  in  a 
hack  chaise.  By  such  endearing  traits  do  the  truly  great 
live  in  the  hearts  of  posterity. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  this  century  Dr.  Arnold  inveighed 
with  characteristic  vigour  against  "the  insolencies  of  our 
aristocracy,  the  scandalous  exemption  of  the  peers  from  all 
ignominious  punishments  short  of  death,  and  the  insolent 
practice  of  allowing  peers  to  vote  in  criminal  trials  on  their 
honour,  while  other  men  vote  on  their  oath."  But  generally 
the  claims  of  rank  and  birth  were  admitted  with  a  childlike 
cheerfulness.  The  high  function  of  government  was  the 
birthright  of  the  few.  The  people,  according  to  episcopal 
showing,  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  laws  but  to  obey  them. 
The  ingenious  author  of  RusseWs  Modern  Europe  states  in 
his  preface  to  that  immortal  work  that  his  object  in  adopt- 
ing the  form  of  a  Series  of  Letters  from  a  Nobleman  to  his 
Son  is  "to  give  more  Weight  to  the  Moral  and  Political 
Maxims,  and  to  entitle  the  author  to  offer,  without  seeming 
to  dictate  to  the  World,  such  reflections  on  Life  and 
Manners  as  are  supposed  more  immediately  to  belong  to 
the  higher  orders  in  Society."  Nor  were  the  privileges  of 
rank  held  to  pertain  merely  to  temporal  concerns.  When 
Selina  Countess  of  Huntingdon  asked  the  Duchess  of 
Buckingham  to  accompany  her  to  a  sermon  of  Whitefield's, 
the  Duchess  replied  :  "  I  thank  your  ladyship  for  the  in- 
formation concerning  the  Methodist  preachers ;  their 
doctrines  are  most  repulsive,  and  strongly  tinctured  with 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   75 

impertinence  and  disrespect  towards  their  superiors,  in 
perpetually  endeavouring  to  level  all  ranks  and  do  away 
with  all  distinctions.  It  is  monstrous  to  be  told  you  have 
a  heart  as  sinful  as  the  common  wretches  that  crawl  on  the 
earth ;  and  I  cannot  but  wonder  that  your  ladyship  should 
relish  any  sentiments  so  much  at  variance  with  high  rank 
and  good  breeding." 

The  exclusive  and  almost  feudal  character  of  the  English 
peerage  was  destroyed,  finally  and  of  set  purpose,  by  Pitt 
when  he  declared  that  every  man  who  had  an  estate  of  ten 
thousand  a  year  had  a  right  to  be  a  peer.  In  Lord  Beacons- 
field's  words,  "  He  created  a  plebeian  aristocracy  and  blended 
it  with  the  patrician  oligarchy.  He  made  peers  of  second- 
rate  squires  and  fat  graziers.  He  caught  them  in  the  alleys 
of  Lombard  Street,  and  clutched  them  from  the  counting- 
houses  of  Cornhill."  This  democratization  of  the  peerage 
was  accompanied  by  great  modifications  of  pomp  and  state- 
liness  in  the  daily  life  of  the  peers.  In  the  eighteenth 
century  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Atholl  were  always  served- 
at  their  own  table  before  their  guests,  in  recognition  of  their 
royal  rank  as  Sovereigns  of  the  Isle  of  Man  ;  and  the  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Argyll  observed  the  same  courteous  usage 
for  no  better  reason  than  because  they  liked  it.  The 
"  Household  Book  "  of  Alnwick  Castle  records  the  ampli- 
tude and  complexity  of  the  domestic  hierarchy  which 
ministered  to  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Northumberland ; 
and  at  Arundel  and  Belvoir,  and  Trentham  and  Wentworth, 
the  magnates  of  the  peerage  lived  in  a  state  little  less  than 
regal.  Seneschals  and  gentlemen-ushers,  ladies-in-waiting 
and  pages-of-the-presence  adorned  noble  as  well  as  royal 
households.  The  private  chaplain  of  a  great  Whig  duke, 
within  the  recollection  of  people  whom  I  have  known, 
used  to  preface  his  sermon  with  a  prayer  for  the  nobility, 
and  "  especially  for  the  noble  duke  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
for  my  scarf" — the  badge  of  chaplaincy — accompanying  the 


76       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 


words  by  a  profound  bow  toward  his  Grace's  pew.  The 
last  "running  footman"  pertained  to  "Old  Q."  —  the 
notorious  Duke  of  Queensberry,  who  died  in  1810.  Horace 
Walpole  describes  how,  when  a  guest  playing  cards  at 
Woburn  Abbey  dropped  a  silver  piece  on  the  floor,  and 
said,  "  Oh,  never  mind ;  let  the  Groom  of  the  Chambers 
have  it,"  the  Duchess  replied,  "  Let  the  carpet-sweeper  have 
it ;  the  Groom  of  the  Chambers  never  takes  anything  but 
gold." 

These  grotesque  splendours  of  domestic  living  went  out 
with  the  eighteenth  century.  Dr.  Johnson,  who  died  in  1784, 
had  already  noted  their  decline.  There  was  a  general  ap- 
proach towards  external  equalization  of  ranks,  and  that 
approach  was  accompanied  by  a  general  diff'usion  of  material 
enjoyment.  The  luxury  of  the  period  was  prodigal  rather 
than  refined.  There  lies  before  me  as  I  write  a  tavern 
bill  for  a  dinner  for  seven  persons  in  the  year  1751.  I  re- 
produce the  items  verbally  and  literally,  and  certainly  the 
bill  of  fare  is  worth  studying  as  a  record  of  gastronomical 
exertion  on  a  heroic  scale  : — 


Bread  and  Beer. 

Potage  de  Tortue. 

Calipash. 

Calipees. 

Un  Pate  de  Jambon  de  Bayone. 

Potage  Julian  Verd. 

Two  Turbots  to  remove  the  Soops. 

Haunch  of  Venison. 

Palaits  de  Mouton. 

Selle  de  Mouton. 

Salade. 

Saucisses  au  Ecrevisses. 

Boudin  Blanc  a  le  Reine. 

Petits  Pat^s  a  I'Espaniol. 

Coteletts  h  la  Cardinal. 

Selle  d'Agneau  glac6  aux  Cocom- 

bres. 
Saumon  k  la  Chambord. 
Fillets  de  Saules  Royales. 
Une  bisque  de  Lait  de  Maquereaux. 


Un  Lambert  aux  Innocents. 
Des  Perdrix  Sauce  Vin  de  Cham- 
paign. 
Poulets  k  le  Russiene. 
Ris  de  Veau  en  Arlequin. 
Quee  d'Agneau  k  la  Montaban. 
Dix  Cailles. 
Un  Lapreau. 
Un  Phesant. 
Dix  Ortolans. 
Une  Tourte  de  Cerises. 
Artichaux  k  le  Provensalle. 
Choufleurs  au  flour. 
Cretes  de  Cocq  en  Bonets. 
Amorte  de  Jesuits. 
Salade. 
Chicken. 

Ice  Cream  and  Fruits. 
Fruit  of  various  sorts,  forced. 
Fruit  from  Market. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.    fj- 


Butter  and  Cheese. 

Cape. 

Clare. 

Cyprus. 

Champaign. 

Neuilly. 

Burgundy. 

Usquebaugh. 

Hock. 

Spa  and  Bristol  Waters 

White  Wine. 

Oranges  and  Lemons. 

Madeira. 

Coffee  and  Tea. 

Sack. 

Lemonade. 

The  total  charge  for  this  dinner  for  seven  amounted  to 
;^8i,  IIS.  6d.,  and  a  footnote  informs  the  curious  reader 
that  there  was  also  "a  turtle  sent  as  a  Present  to  the 
Company,  and  dressed  in  a  very  high  Gout  after  the  West 
Indian  Manner."  Old  cookery-books,  such  as  the  mis- 
quoted work  of  Mrs.  Glasse,  Dr.  Kitchener's  Cook's  Oracle, 
and  the  anonymous  but  admirable  Culina,  all  concur  in. 
their  testimony  to  the  enormous  amount  of  animal  food 
which  went  to  make  an  ordinary  meal,  and  the  amazing 
variety  of  irreconcilable  ingredients  which  were  combined 
in  a  single  dish.  Lord  Beaconsfield,  whose  knowledge  of 
this  recondite  branch  of  English  literature  was  curiously 
minute,  thus  describes — no  doubt  from  authentic  sources — 
a  family  dinner  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  : — 

"  The  ample  tureen  of  potage  royal  had  a  boned  duck 
swimming  in  its  centre.  At  the  other  end  of  the  table 
scowled  in  death  the  grim  countenance  of  a  huge  roast 
pike,  flanked  on  one  side  by  a  leg  of  mutton  a  la  daube^ 
and  on  the  other  by  the  tempting  delicacies  of  Bombarded 
Veal.  To  these  succeeded  that  masterpiece  of  the  culinary 
art  a  grand  Battalia  Pie,  in  which  the  bodies  of  chickens, 
pigeons,  and  rabbits  were  embalmed  in  spices,  cocks' 
combs,  and  savoury  balls,  and  well  bedewed  with  one  of 
those  rich  sauces  of  claret,  anchovy,  and  sweet  herbs  in 
which  our  grandfathers  delighted,  and  which  was  technically 
termed  a  Lear.  A  Florentine  tourte  or  tansy,  an  old 
English  custard,  a  more  refined  blamango,  and  a  riband 
jelly  of  many  colours  offered  a  pleasant  relief  after  these 


78       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

vaster   inventions,  and   the   repast  closed  with  a  dish  of 
oyster-loaves  and  a  pomepetone  of  larks." 

As  the  old  order  yielded  vplace  to  the  new,  this  enormous 
profusion  of  rich  food  became  by  degrees  less  fashionable, 
though  its  terrible  traditions  endured,  through  the  days  of 
Soyer  and  Francatelli,  almost  to  our  own  time.  But 
gradually  refinement  began  to  supersede  profusion.  Simul- 
taneously all  forms  of  luxury  spread  from  the  aristocracy  to 
the  plutocracy ;  while  the  middle  and  lower  classes  attained 
a  degree  of  solid  comfort  which  would  a  few  years  before 
have  been  impossible.  Under  Pitt's  administration  wealth 
increased  rapidly.  Great  fortunes  were  amassed  through 
the  improvement  of  agricultural  methods  and  the  applica- 
tion of  machinery  to  manufacture.  The  Indian  Nabobs, 
as  they  were  called,  became  a  recognized  and  powerful 
element  in  society,  and  their  habits  of  "Asiatic  luxury" 
are  represented  by  Chatham,  Burke,  Voltaire,  and  Home 
Tooke  as  producing  a  marked  effect  upon  the  social  life 
of  the  time.  Lord  Robert  Seymour  notes  in  his  diary  for 
1788  that  a  fashionable  lady  gave  ^100  a  year  to  the  cook 
who  superintended  her  suppers  ;  that  at  a  sale  of  bric-k-brac 
230  guineas  were  paid  for  a  mirror;  and  that,  at  a  ball 
given  by  the  Knights  of  the  Bath  at  the  Pantheon,  the 
decorations  cost  upwards  of  ;2^30oo.  The  general  con- 
sumption of  French  and  Portuguese  wines  in  place  of 
beer,  which  had  till  recently  been  the  beverage  even  of  the 
affluent,  was  regarded  by  grave  writers  as  a  most  alarming 
sign  of  the  times,  and  the  cause  of  a  great  increase  of 
drunkenness  among  the  upper  classes.  The  habits  and 
manners  prevalent  in  London  spread  into  the  country.  As 
the  distinction  between  the  nobility,  who,  roughly  speaking, 
had  been  the  frequenters  of  the  capital,  and  the  minor 
gentry,  who  had  lived  almost  entirely  on  their  own  estates, 
gradually  disappeared,  the  distinction  between  town  and 
country  life  sensibly  diminished. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        79 

The  enormous  increase  in  the  facilities  for  travelling  and 
for  the  interchange  of  information  contributed  to  the  same 
result ;  and  grave  men  lamented  the  growing  fondness  of 
the  provincial  ladies  for  the  card-table,  the  theatre,  the 
assembly,  the  masquerade,  and — singular  social  juxta- 
position— the  Circulating  Library.  The  process  of  social 
assimilation,  while  it  spread  from  town  to  country  and 
from  nobility  to  gentry,  reached  down  from  the  gentry  to 
the  merchants,  and  from  the  merchants  to  the  tradesmen. 
The  merchant  had  his  villa  three  or  four  miles  away  from 
his  place  of  business,  and  lived  at  Clapham  or  Dulwich 
in  a  degree  and  kind  of  luxury  which  had  a  few  years  before 
been  the  monopoly  of  the  aristocracy.  The  tradesman  no 
longer  inhabited  the  rooms  over  his  shop,  but  a  house  in 
Bloomsbury  or  Soho.  Where,  fifty  years  before,  one  fire 
in  the  kitchen  served  the  whole  family,  and  one  dish  of 
meat  appeared  on  the  table,  now  a  footman  waited  at  the 
banquet  of  imported  luxuries,  and  small  beer  and  punch 
had  made  way  for  Burgundy  and  Madeira. 

But  the  subject  expands  before  us,  and  it  is  time  to 
close.  Now  I  propose  to  inquire  how  far  this  Social 
Equalization  was  accompanied  by  Social  Amelioration. 


VIII. 

SOCIAL   AMELIORATION. 

A  T  this  point  it  is  necessary  to  look  back  a  little,  and 
'^*-  to  clear  our  minds  of  the  delusion  that  an  age  of 
splendour  is  necessarily  an  age  of  refinement.  We  have 
seen  something  of  the  regal  state  and  prodigal  luxury 
which  surrounded  the  English  aristocracy  in  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  Yet  at  no  period  of  our  national 
history — unless,  perhaps,  during  the  orgies  of  the  Restora- 
tion— were  aristocratic  morals  at  so  low  an  ebb.  Edmund 
I  Burke,  in  a  passage  which  is  as  ethically  questionable  as  it 
is  rhetorically  beautiful,  taught  that  vice  loses  half  its  evil 
when  it  loses  all  its  grossness.  But  in  the  English  society 
of  his  time  grossness  was  as  conspicuous  as  vice  itself,  and 
it  infected  not  only  the  region  of  morals,  but  also  that  of 
manners. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  has  described  how,  in  his  youth,  refined 
gentlewomen  read  aloud  to  their  families  the  most  startling 
passages  of  the  most  outrageous  authors.  I  have  been 
told  by  one  who  heard  it  from  an  eye-witness  that  a  great 
Whig  duchess,  who  figures  brilliantly  in  the  social  and 
political  memoirs  of  the  eighteenth  century,  turning  to  the 
footman  who  was  waiting  on  her  at  dinner,  exclaimed,  "  I 

wish  to  G that  you  wouldn't  keep  rubbing  your  great 

greasy   belly   against    the   back   of  my  chair."     Men  and 
women   of  the   highest   fashion  swore   like  troopers;   the 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   8i 

Princes  of  the  Blood,  who  carried  down  into  the  middle  of 
the  nineteenth  century  the  courtly  habits  of  their  youth, 
setting  the  example.  Mr.  Gladstone  told  me  the  following 
anecdote,  which  he  had  from  the  Lord  Pembroke  of  the 
period,  who  was  present  at  the  scene. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  first  Reformed  Parliament  the 
Whig  Government  were  contemplating  a  reform  of  the 
law  of  Church  Rates.  Success  was  certain  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  but  the  Tory  peers,  headed  by  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland,  determined  to  defeat  the  Bill  in  the  House 
of  Lords.  A  meeting  of  the  party  was  held,  when  it 
appeared  that,  in  the  balanced  state  of  parties,  the  Tory 
peers  could  not  effect  their  purpose  unless  they  could 
rally  the  bishops  to  their  aid.  The  question  was.  What 
would  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  do  ?  He  was  Dr.  How- 
ley,  the  mildest  and  most  apostolic  of  men,  and  the  most 
averse  from  strife  and  contention.  It  was  impossible  to  be 
certain  of  his  action,  and  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  posted 
off  to  Lambeth  to  ascertain  it.  Returning  in  hot  haste  to 
the  caucus,    he    burst   into   the   room,    exclaiming,     "  It's 

all  right,  my  lords ;  the  Archbishop  says  he  will  be  d d 

to  hell  if  he  doesn't  throw  the   Bill  out."     The  Duke  of 

Wellington's  "Twopenny  d n  "  has  become  proverbial; 

and  Sydney  Smith  neatly  rebuked  a  similar  propensity  in 
Lord  Melbourne  by  saying,  "  Let  us  assume  everybody  and 

everything  to  be  d d,  and  come  to  the  point."     The  Miss 

Berrys,  who  had  been  the  correspondents  of  Horace  Walpole, 
and  who  carried  down  to  the  'fifties  the  most  refined 
traditions  of  social  life  in  the  previous  century,  habitually 

"  d d  "  the  tea-kettle  if  it  burned  their  fingers,  and  called 

their  male  friends  by  their  surnames — "Come,  Milnes,  will 
you  have  a  cup  of  tea  ?  "  "  Now,  Macaulay,  we  have  had 
enough  of  that  subject." 

So  much,  then,  for  the  refinement  of  the  upper  classes. 
Did   the   Social    Equalization   of  which   we   have   spoken 


82       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

bring  with  it  anything  in  the  way  of  Social  Amelioration  ? 
A  philosophical  orator  of  my  time  at  the  Oxford  Union, 
now  a  valued  member  of  the  House  of  Lords,  once  said  in 
a  Rebate  on  national  intemperance  that  he  had  made  a 
careful  study  of  the  subject,  and,  with  much  show  of 
scientific  analysis,  he  thus  announced  the  result  of  his 
researches :  "  The  causes  of  national  intemperance  are 
three :  first,  the  adulteration  of  liquor ;  second,  the  love 
of  drink ;  and  third,  the  desire  for  more."  Knowing  my 
incapacity  to  rival  this  masterpiece  of  exact  thinking,  I 
have  not  thought  it  necessary  in  these  chapters  to  enlarge 
on  the  national  habit  of  excessive  drinking  in  the  late 
years  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  grossness  and  the 
universality  of  the  vice  are  too  well  known  to  need  elaborat- 
ing. All  oral  tradition,  all  contemporary  literature,  all 
satiric  art,  tell  the  same  horrid  tale  ;  and  the  number  of 
bottles  which  a  single  toper  would  consume  at  a  sitting 
not  only,  in  Burke's  phrase,  "outraged  economy,"  but 
"staggered  credibility."  Even  as  late  as  1831,  Samuel 
Wilberforce,  afterwards  Bishop,  wrote  thus  in  his  diary : — 
"A  good  Audit  Dinner:  23  people  drank  11  bottles  of 
wine,  28  quarts  of  beer,  2^  of  spirits,  and  12  bowls  of 
punch;  and  would  have  drunk  twice  as  much  if  not 
restrained.  None,  we  hope,  drunk/"  Mr,  Gladstone  told 
me  that  once,  when  he  was  a  young  man,  he  was  dining 
at  a  house  where  the  principal  guest  was  a  Bishop.  When 
the  decanters  had  made  a  sufficient  number  of  circuits,  the 
host  said,  '*  Shall  we  have  any  more  wine,  my  Lord  ? " 
"Thank  you — not  till  we  have  disposed  of  what  is  before 
us,"  was  the  bland  episcopal  reply. 

But  still,  in  the  matter  of  drinking,  the  turn  of  the 
century  witnessed  some  social  amelioration  among  the 
upper  classes.  There  was  a  change,  if  not  in  quantity, 
at  least  in  quality.  Where  port  and  Madeira  had  been  the 
staple  drinks,  corrected  by  libations  of  brandy,  less  potent 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        83 

beverages  became  fashionable.  The  late  Mr.  Thomson 
Hankey,  formerly  M.P.  for  Peterborough,  told  me  that  he 
remembered  his  father  coming  home  from  the  city  one  day 
and  saying  to  his  mother,  "  My  dear,  I  have  ordered  a 
dozen  bottles  of  a  new  white  wine.  It  is  called  sherry,  and 
I  am  told  the  Prince  Regent  drinks  nothing  else."  The 
fifteenth  Lord  Derby  told  me  that  the  cellar-books  at 
Knowsley  and  St.  James's  Square  had  been  carefully  kept 
for  a  hundred  years,  and  that — contrary  to  what  every  one 
would  have  supposed — the  number  of  bottles  drunk  in  a 
year  had  not  diminished.  The  alteration  was  in  the 
alcoholic  strength  of  the  wines  consumed.  Burgundy,  port, 
and  Madeira  had  made  way  for  light  claret,  champagne,  and 
hock.  That,  even  under  these  changed  conditions  of 
potency,  the  actual  number  of  bottles  consumed  showed  no 
diminution,  was  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  at  balls 
and  evening  parties  a  great  deal  more  champagne  was  drunk 
than  formerly,  and  that  luncheon  in  a  large  house  had  now 
become  practically  an  earlier  dinner. 

The  growth  of  these  subsidiary  meals  was  a  curious 
feature  of  the  nineteenth  century.  We  exclaim  with^horror 
at  such  preposterous  bills  of  fare  as  that  which  I  quoted 
in  my  last  chapter,  but  it  should  be  remembered,  in  justice 
to  our  fathers,  that  dinner  was  the  only  substantial  meal 
of  the  day.  Holland  House  was  always  regarded  as  the 
very  temple  of  luxury,  and  Macaulay  tells  us  that  the 
viands  at  a  breakfast-party  there  were  tea  and  coffee,  eggs, 
rolls,  and  butter.  The  fashion,  which  began  in  the  nine- 
teenth century,  of  going  to  the  Highlands  for  shooting, 
popularized  in  England  certain  northern  habits  of  feeding, 
and  a  morning  meal  at  which  game  and  cold  meat  appeared 
was  known  in  England  as  a  "  Scotch  breakfast."  Apparently 
it  had  made  some  way  by  1840,  for  the  Ingoldsby  Legends 
published  in  that  year  thus  describe  the  morning  meal  of 
the  ill-fated  Sir  Thomas  : — 


84       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  It  seems  he  had  taken  A  light  breakfast — bacon, 
An  egg,  with  a  little  broiled  haddock  ;  at  most 
A  round  and  a  half  of  some  hot  buttered  toast ; 
With  a  slice  of  cold  sirloin  from  yesterday's  roast." 

Luncheon,  or  "  nuncheon  "  as  some  very  ancient  friends 
of  mine  always  called  it,  was  the  merest  mouthful.  Men 
went  out  shooting  with  a  sandwich  in  their  pocket;  the 
ladies  who  sat  at  home  had  some  cold  chicken  and  wine 
and  water  brought  into  the  drawing-room  on  a  tray.  Miss 
Austen  in  her  novels  always  dismisses  the  midday  meal 
under  the  cursory  appellation  of  "  cold  meat."  The  cele- 
brated Dr.  Kitchener,  the  sympathetic  author  of  the  Cook's 
Oracle,  writing  in  1825,  says:  "Your  luncheon  may  con- 
sist of  a  bit  of  roasted  poultry,  a  basin  of  beef  tea,  or  eggs 
poached,  or  boiled  in  the  shell ;  fish  plainly  dressed,  or  a 
sandwich ;  stale  bread ;  and  half  a  pint  of  good  home- 
brewed beer,  or  toast-and-water,  with  about  one-fourth  or 
one-third  part  of  its  measure  of  wine."  And  this  pre- 
scription would  no  doubt  have  worn  an  aspect  of  liberal 
concession  to  the  demands  of  the  patient's  appetite.  It  is 
difficult,  by  any  effort  of  a  morbid  imagination,  to  realize  a 
time  when  there  was  no  five-o'clock  tea ;  and  yet  that  most 
sacred  of  our  national  institutions  was  only  invented  by  the 
Duchess  of  Bedford  who  died  in  1857,  and  whose  name 
should  surely  be  enrolled  in  the  Positivist  Kalendar  as  a 
benefactress  of  the  human  race.  No  wonder  that  by  seven 
o'clock  our  fathers,  and  even  our  mothers,  were  ready  to 
tackle  a  dinner  of  solid  properties ;  and  even  to  supplement 
it  with  the  amazing  supper  (which  Dr.  Kitchener  prescribes 
for  "those  who  dine  very  late")  of  "gruel,  or  a  little  bread 
and  cheese,  or  pounded  cheese,  and  a  glass  of  beer." 

This  is  a  long  digression  from  the  subject  of  excessive 
drinking,  with  which,  however,  it  is  not  remotely  connected  ; 
and,  both  in  respect  of  drunkenness  and  of  gluttony,  the 
habits  of  English  society  in  the  years  which  immediately 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        85 

succeeded  the  French  Revolution  showed  a  marked  ameli- 
oration. To  a  company  of  enthusiastic  Wordsworthians 
who  were  deploring  their  master's  confession  that  he  got 
drunk  at  Cambridge,  I  heard  Mr.  Shorthouse,  the  accom- 
plished author  oi  John  Ingksant,  soothingly  remark  that  in 
all  probability  "  Wordsworth's  standard  of  intoxication  was 
miserably  low."  * 

Simultaneously  with  the  restriction  of  excess  there  was 
seen  a  corresponding  increase  in  refinement  of  taste  and 
manners.  Some  of  the  more  brutal  forms  of  so-called  sporty 
such  as  bull-baiting  and  cock-fighting,  became  less  fashion- 
able. The  more  civilized  forms,  such  as  fox-hunting  and 
racing,  increased  in  favour.  Esthetic  culture  was  more 
generally  diffused.  The  stage  was  at  the  height  of  its 
glory.  Music  was  a  favourite  form  of  public  recreation. 
Great  prices  were  given  for  works  of  art.  The  study 
of  physical  science,  or  "natural  philosophy"  as  it  was 
called,  became  popular.  Public  Libraries  and  local  "  book 
societies "  sprang  up,  and  there  was  a  wide  demand  for 
encyclopaedias  and  similar  vehicles  for  the  diffusion  of  general 
knowledge.  The  love  of  natural  beauty  was  beginning  to 
move  the  hearts  of  men,  and  it  found  expression  at  once 
in  an  entirely  new  school  of  landscape  painting,  and  in  a, 
more  romantic  and  natural  form  of  poetry. 

But  against  these  marked  instances  of  social  amelioration 
must  be  set  some  darker  traits  of  national  life.  The  public 
conscience  had  not  yet  revolted  against  violence  and 
brutality.  The  prize-ring,  patronized  by  Royalty,  was  at 
its  zenith.  Humanitarians  and  philanthropists  were  as  yet 
an  obscure  and  ridiculed  sect.  The  slave  trade,  though 
menaced,  was  still  undisturbed.  Under  a  system  scarcely 
distinguishable  from  slavery,  pauper  children  were  bound 
over  to  the  owners  of  factories  and  subjected  to  the  utmost 

*  I  have  since  been  told  that  this  happy  saying  was  borrowed  from 
Sir  Francis  Doyle. 


86       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

rigour  of  enforced  labour.  The  treatment  of  the  insane 
was  darkened  by  incredible  barbarities.  As  late  as  1828 
Lord  Shaftesbury  found  that  the  lunatics  in  Bedlam  were 
chained  to  their  straw  beds,  and  left  from  Saturday  to 
Monday  without  attendance,  and  with  only  bread  and  water 
within  their  reach,  while  the  keepers  were  enjoying  them- 
selves. Discipline  in  the  services,  in  poorhouses,  and  in 
schools  was  of  the  most  brutal  type.  Our  prisons  were 
unreformed.  Our  penal  code  was  inconceivably  sanguinary 
and  savage.  In  1770  there  were  one  hundred  and  sixty 
capital  offences  on  the  Statute-book,  and  by  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century  the  number  had  greatly  increased. 
To  steal  five  shillings'  worth  of  goods  from  a  shop  was 
punishable  by  death.  A  girl  of  twenty-two  was  hanged  for 
receiving  a  piece  of  woollen  stuff  from  the  man  who  had 
stolen  it. 

In  1789  a  woman  was  burnt  at  the  stake  for  coining. 
People  still  living  have  seen  the  skeletons  of  pirates  and 
highwaymen  hanging  in  chains.  I  have  heard  that  the 
children  of  the  Bluecoat  School  at  Hertford  were  always 
taken  to  see  the  executions  there;  and  as  late  as  1820  the 
dead  bodies  of  the  Cato  Street  conspirators  were  decapitated 
in  front  of  Newgate,  and  the  Westminster  boys  had  a 
special  holiday  to  enable  them  to  see  the  sight,  which  was 
thus  described  by  an  eye-witness,  the  late  Lord  de  Ros : 
"The  executioner  and  his  assistant  cut  down  one  of  the 
corpses  from  the  gallows,  and  placed  it  in  the  coffin,  but 
with  the  head  hanging  over  on  the  block.  The  man  with 
the  knife  instantly  severed  the  head  from  the  body,  and  the 
executioner,  receiving  it  in  his  hands,  held  it  up,  saying  in 
a  loud  voice,  'This  is  the  head  of  a  traitor.'  He  then 
dropped  it  into  the  coffin,  which  being  removed,  another 
was  brought  forward,  and  they  proceeded  to  cut  down  the 
next  body  and  to  go  through  the  same  ghastly  operation. 
It  was  observed  that  the  mob,  which  was  very  large,  gazed 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        87 

in  silence  at  the  hanging  of  the  conspirators,  and  showed 
not  the  least  sympathy ;  but  when  each  head  was  cut  off 
and  held  up,  a  loud  and  deep  groan  of  horror  burst 
from  all  sides,  which  was  not  soon  forgotten  by  those  who 
heard  it." 

Duelling  was  the  recognized  mode  of  settling  all  personal 
disputes,  and  no  attempt  was  made  to  enforce  the  law 
which,  theoretically,  treated  the  killing  of  a  man  in  a  duel 
as  wilful  murder ;  but,  on  th£  other  hand,  debt  was 
punished  with  what  often  was  imprisonment  for  life.  A 
woman  died  in  the  County  Jail  at  Exeter  after  forty-five 
years'  incarceration  for  a  debt  of  ;^i9.  Crime  was  rampant. 
Daring  burglaries,  accompanied  by  every  circumstance  of 
violence,  took  place  nightly.  Highwaymen  infested  the 
suburban  roads,  and  not  seldom  plied  their  calling  in  the 
capital  itself.  The  iron  post  at  the  end  of  the  narrow 
footway  between  the  gardens  of  Devonshire  House  and 
Lansdowne  House  is  said  by  tradition  to  have  been  placed 
there  after  a  Knight  of  the  Road  had  eluded  the  officers  of 
justice  by  galloping  down  the  stone  steps  and  along  the 
flagged  path.  Sir  Hamilton  Seymour  (1797-1880)  was  in 
his  father's  carriage  when  it  was  "  stopped  "  by  a  highway- 
man in  Upper  Brook  Street.  Young  gentlemen  of  broken 
fortunes,  and  tradesmen  whose  business  had  grown  slack, 
swelled  the  ranks  of  these  desperadoes.  It  was  even  said 
that  an  Irish  prelate — Dr.  Twysden,  Bishop  of  Raphoe — 
whose  incurable  love  of  adventure  had  drawn  him  to  "  the 
road,"  received  the  penalty  of  his  uncanonical  diversion  in 
the  shape  of  a  bullet  from  a  traveller  whom  he  had  stopped 
on  Hounslow  Heath.  The  Lord  Mayor  was  made  to  stand 
and  deliver  on  Turnham  Green.  Stars  and  "Georges" 
were  snipped  off  ambassadors  and  peers  as  they  entered 
St.  James's  Palace. 

It  is  superfluous  to  multiply  illustrations.  Enough  has 
been  said  to  show  that  the  circumscription  of  aristocratic 


88       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

privilege  and  the  diffusion  of  material  luxury  did  not  precipi- 
tate the  millennium.  Social  Equalization  was  not  synony- 
mous with  Social  Amelioration.  Some  improvement,  indeed, 
in  the  tone  and  habit  of  society  occurred  at  the  turn  of  the 
century  ;  but  it  was  little  more  than  a  beginning.  I  proceed 
to  trace  its  development,  and  to  indicate  its  source. 


IX. 

THE  EVANGELICAL  INFLUENCE. 

A /T  R.  LECKY  justly  remarks  that  "it  is  difficult  to  measure 
■'■*-'•  the  change  which  must  have  passed  over  the  public 
mind  since  the  days  when  the  lunatics  in  Bedlam  were  con- 
stantly spoken  of  as  one  of  the  sights  of  London  ;  when  the 
maintenance  of  the  African  slave-trade  was  a  foremost 
object  of  English  commercial  policy ;  when  men  and  even 
women  were  publicly  whipped  through  the  streets ;  when 
skulls  lined  the  top  of  Temple  Bar  and  rotting  corpses 
hung  on  gibbets  along  the  Edgware  Road ;  when  persons 
exposed  in  the  pillory  not  unfrequently  died  through  the  ill- 
usage  of  the  mob  ;  and  when  the  procession  every  six  weeks 
of  condemned  criminals  to  Tyburn  was  one  of  the  great 
festivals  of  London." 

Difficult,  indeed,  it  is  to  measure  so  great  a  change,  and 
it  is  not  wholly  easy  to  ascertain  with  precision  its  various 
and  concurrent  causes,  and  to  attribute  to  each  its  proper 
potency.  But  we  shall  certainly  not  be  wrong  if,  among 
those  causes,  we  assign  a  prominent  place  to  the  Evangeli- 
cal revival  of  religion.  It  would  be  a  mistake  to  claim  for 
the  Evangelical  movement  the  whole  credit  of  our  social 
reform  and  philanthropic  work.  Even  in  the  darkest  times 
of  spiritual  torpor  and  general  profligacy  England  could 
show  a  creditable  amount  of  practical  benevolence.  The 
public  charities  of  London  were  large  and  excellent.  The 
first  Foundling  Hospital  was  established  in  1739;  the  first 


90       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Magdalen  Hospital  in  1769.  In  1795  it  was  estimated  that 
the  annual  expenditure  on  charity-schools,  asylums,  hospitals, 
and  similar  institutions  in  London  was  ;;^7 50,000. 

Mr.  Lecky,  whose  study  of  these  social  phenomena  is 
exhaustive,  imagines  that  the  habit  of  unostentatious  charity, 
which  seems  indigenous  to  England,  was  powerfully  stimu- 
lated by  the  philosophy  of  Shaftesbury  and  Voltaire,  by 
Rousseau's  sentiment  and  Fielding's  fiction.  This  theory 
may  have  something  to  say  for  itself,  and  indeed  it  is  ante- 
cedently plausible;  but  I  can  hardly  believe  that  purely 
literary  influences  counted  for  so  very  much  in  the  sphere 
of  practice.  I  doubt  if  any  considerable  number  of  English- 
men were  effectively  swayed  by  that  humanitarian  philosophy 
of  France  which  in  the  actions  of  its  maturity  so  awfully 
belied  the  promise  of  its  youth.  We  are,  I  think,  on  surer 
ground  when,  admitting  a  national  bias  towards  material 
benevolence,  and  not  denying  some  stimulus  from  hterature 
and  philosophy,  we  assign  the  main  credit  of  our  social 
regeneration  to  the  Evangelical  revival. 

The  life  of  John  Wesley,  practically  coterminous  with  the 
eighteenth  century,  witnessed  both  the  lowest  point  of  our 
moral  degradation  and  also  the  earliest  promise  of  our  moral 
restoration.  He  cannot,  indeed,  be  reckoned  the  founder 
of  the  Evangelical  school;  that  title  belongs  rather  to 
George  Whitefield.  But  his  influence,  combined  with  that 
of  his  brother  Charles,  acting  on  such  men  as  Newton  and 
Cecil  and  Venn  and  Scott  of  Aston  Sandford ;  on  Selina 
Lady  Huntingdon  and  Mrs.  Hannah  More ;  on  Howard  and 
Clarkson  and  William  Wilberforce ;  made  a  deep  mark  on 
the  Established  Church,  gave  new  and  permanent  life  to 
English  Nonconformity,  and  sensibly  affected  the  character 
and  aspect  of  secular  society. 

Wesley  himself  had  received  the  governing  impulse  of  his 
life  from  Law's  Serious  Call  and  Christian  Perfection,  and 
he  had  been  a  member  of  one  of  those  religious  societies 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        91 

(or  guilds,  as  they  would  now  be  called)  with  which  the 
piety  of  Bishop  Beveridge  and  Dr.  Horneck  had  enriched 
the  Church  of  England.  These  societies  were,  of  course, 
distinctly  Anglican  in  origin  and  character,  and  were  stamped 
with  the  High  Church  theology.  They  constituted,  so  to 
say,  a  church  within  the  Church,  and,  though  they  raised 
the  level  of  personal  piety  among  their  members  to  a  very 
high  point,  they  did  not  widely  affect  the  general  tone  and 
character  of  national  religion.  The  Evangelical  leaders, 
relying  on  less  exclusively  ecclesiastical  methods,  diffused 
their  influence  over  a  much  wider  area,  and,  under  the 
impulse  of  their  teaching,  drunkenness,  indecency,  and  pro- 
fanity were  sensibly  abated.  The  reaction  from  the  rampant 
wickedness  of  the  eighteenth  century  drove  men  into  strict 
and  even  puritanical  courses. 

Lord  Robert  Seymour  wrote  on  the  20th  of  March,  1788  : 
"  Tho'  Good  Friday,  Mrs.  Sawbridge  has  an  assembly  this 
evening ;  tells  her  invited  Friends  they  really  are  only  to 
play  for  a  Watch  which  she  has  had  some  time  on  her  Hands 
and  wishes  to  dispose  of." 

" '  Really,  I  declare  'pon  my  honor  it's  true '  (said  Ly. 
Bridget  Talmash  to  the  Dutchess  of  Bolton)  '  that  a  great 
many  People  now  go  to  Chapel.  I  saw  a  vaste  number  of 
Carriages  at  Portman  Chapel  last  Sunday.'  The  Dut. 
told  her  she  always  went  to  Chapel  on  Sunday,  and  in 
the  country  read  Prayers  in  the  Hall  to  her  Family." 

But  where  the  Evangelical  influence  reached,  it  brought 
a  marked  abstention  from  such  forms  of  recreation  as 
dancing,  card-playing,  and  the  drama.  Sunday  was 
observed  with  a  Judaical  rigour.  A  more  frequent  attend- 
ance on  public  worship  was  accompanied  by  the  revival 
of  family  prayers  and  grace  before  meat.  Manuals  of 
private  devotion  were  multiplied.  Religious  literature 
of  all  kinds  was  published  in  great  quantity.  A  higher 
standard  of  morals  was  generally  professed.     Marriage  was 


92        COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

gradually  restored  in  public  estimation  to  its  proper  place, 
not  merely  as  a  civil  bond  or  social  festival,  but  as  a  chief 
solemnity  of  the  Christian  religion. 

There  was  no  more  significant  sign  of  the  times  than 
this  alteration.  In  the  eighteenth  century  some  of  the 
gravest  of  our  social  offences  had  clustered  round  the 
institution  of  marriage,  which  was  almost  as  much  dis- 
honoured in  the  observance  as  in  the  breach.  In  the  first 
half  of  that  century  the  irregular  and  clandestine  weddings, 
celebrated  without  banns  or  licence  in  the  Fleet  Prison, 
had  been  one  of  the  crying  scandals  of  the  middle  and 
lower  classes  ;  and  in  the  second  half,  the  nocturnal  Sittings 
to  Gretna  Green  of  young  couples  who  could  afford  such 
a  Pilgrimage  of  Passion  lowered  the  whole  conception  of 
marriage.  It  was  through  the  elopement  of  Miss  Child- 
heiress  of  the  opulent  banker  at  Temple  Bar — from  her 
father's  house  in  Berkeley  Square  (now  Lord  Rosebery's) 
that  the  ownership  of  the  great  banking  business  passed 
eventually  to  the  present  Lord  Jersey;  and  the  annals  of 
almost  every  aristocratic  family  contain  the  record  of 
similar  escapades. 

The  Evangelical  movement,  not  content  with  permeating 
England,  sought  to  expand  itself  all  over  the  Empire. 
The  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  and  the 
Society  for  Promoting  Christian  Knowledge  had  been 
essentially  Anglican  institutions ;  and  similar  societies,  but 
less  ecclesiastical  in  character,  now  sprang  up  in  great 
numbers.  The  London  Missionary  Society  was  founded 
in  1795,  the  Church  Missionary  Society  in  1799,  the 
Religious  Tract  Society  in  the  same  year,  and  the  British 
and  Foreign  Bible  Society  three  years  later.  All  these 
were  distinctly  creations  of  the  Evangelical  movement,  as 
were  also  the  Societies  for  the  Reformation  of  Manners 
and  for  the  Better  Observance  of  the  Lord's  Day. 
Religious    education    found   in   the   Evangelical   party  its 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        93 

most  active  friends.  The  Sunday  School  Society  was 
founded  in  1785.  Two  years  later  it  was  educating  two 
hundred  thousand  children.  Its  most  earnest  champions 
were  Rowland  Hill  and  Mrs.  Hannah  More  ;  but  it  is  worthy 
of  note  that  this  excellent  lady,  justly  honoured  as  a  pioneer 
of  elementary  education,  confined  her  curriculum  to  the  Bible 
and  the  Catechism,  and  "  such  coarse  works  as  may  fit  the 
children  for  servants.     I  allow  of  no  writing  for  the  poor." 

To  the  Society  of  Friends — a  body  not  historically  or 
theologically  Evangelical — belongs  the  credit  of  having 
first  awoke,  and  tried  to  rouse  others,  to  a  sense  of  the 
horrors  and  iniquities  involved  in  the  slave-trade ;  but  the 
adhesion  of  William  Wilberforce  and  his  friends  at 
Clapham  identified  the  movement  for  emancipation  with 
the  Evangelical  party.  Never  were  the  enthusiasm,  the 
activity,  the  uncompromising  devotion  to  principle  which 
marked  the  Evangelicals  turned  to  better  account.  Their 
very  narrowness  gave  intensity  and  concentration  to  their 
work,  and  their  victory,  though  deferred,  was  complete. 
It  has  been  truly  said  that  when  the  English  nation  had 
been  thoroughly  convinced  that  slavery  was  a  curse  which 
must  be  got  rid  of  at  any  cost,  we  cheerfully  paid  down 
as  the  price  of  its  abolition  twenty  millions  in  cash,  and 
threw  the  prosperity  of  our  West  Indian  colonies  into  the 
bargain.  Yet  we  only  spent  on  it  one-tenth  of  what  it 
cost  us  to  lose  America,  and  one-fiftieth  of  what  we  spent 
in  avenging  the  execution  of  Louis  XVI, 

In  spite  of  all  these  conspicuous  and  beneficent  advances 
in  the  direction  of  humanity,  a  great  deal  of  severity,  and 
what  appears  to  us  brutality,  remained  embedded  in  our 
social  system.  I  have  spoken  in  previous  chapters  of  the 
methods  of  discipline  enforced  in  the  services,  in  jails,  in 
poorhouses,  and   in   schools.*     A  very  similar  spirit  pre- 

*  For  a  lively  description  of  Andover  School  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  see  the  Memoirs  of  ^'  Orator  Hunt." 


94        COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS 

vailed  even  in  the  home.  Children  were  shut  up  in  dark 
closets,  starved,  and  flogged.  Lord  Shaftesbury's  father 
used  to  knock  him  down,  and  recommended  his  tutor  at 
Harrow  to  do  the  same.  Archdeacon  Denison  describes 
in  his  autobiography  how  he  and  his  brothers  were 
thrashed  by  their  tutor  when  they  were  youths  of  sixteen 
and  had  left  Eton.  Tlie  Fairchild  Family — that  quaint 
picture  of  Evangelical  life  and  manners — depicts  a  religious 
father  as  punishing  his  quarrelsome  children  by  taking 
them  to  see  a  murderer  hanging  in  chains,  and  as  chastis- 
ing every  peccadillo  of  infancy  with  a  severity  which  makes 
one  long  to  flog  Mr  Fairchild. 

But  still,  in  spite  of  all  these  checks  and  drawbacks  and 
evil  survivals,  the  tide  of  humanitarianism  flowed  on,  and 
gradually  altered  the  aspect  of  English  life.  The  bloody 
Penal  Code  was  mitigated.  Prisons  and  poorhouses  were 
reformed.  The  discipline  of  school  and  of  home  was 
tempered  by  the  infusion  of  mercy  and  reason  into  the 
iron  regimen  of  terror.  And  this  general  diminution  of 
brutality  was  not  the  only  form  of  social  amelioration.  It 
was  accompanied  by  a  gradual  but  perceptible  increase 
in  decency,  refinement,  and  material  prosperity.  Splen- 
dour diminished,  and  luxury  remained  the  monopoly  of  the 
rich  ;  but  comfort — that  peculiarly  English  treasure — was 
more  generally  diffused.  In  that  diff"usion  the  Evangelicals 
had  their  full  share.  Thackeray's  admirable  description 
of  Mrs.  Newcome's  villa  is  drawn  from  the  life :  "  In 
Egypt  itself  there  were  not  more  savoury  fleshpots  than 
those  at  Clapham.  Her  mansion  was  long  the  resort  of 
the  most  favoured  among  the  religious  world.  The  most 
eloquent  expounders,  the  most  gifted  missionaries,  the 
most  interesting  converts  from  foreign  islands  were  to  be 
found  at  her  sumptuous  table,  spread  with  the  produce  of 
her  magnificent  gardens  ...  a  great,  shining,  mahogany 
table,    covered   with   grapes,   pineapples,    plum-cake,   port 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        95 

wine,  and  Madeira,  and  surrounded  by  stout  men  in 
black,  with  baggy  white  neckcloths,  who  took  little  Tommy 
on  their  knees  and  questioned  him  as  to  his  right  under- 
standing of  the  place  whither  naughty  boys  were  bound." 

Again,  in  his  paper  on  Dinners  the  same  great  master  of 
a  fascinating  subject  speaks  the  words  of  truth  and  sober- 
ness when  he  says :  "  I  don't  know  when  I  have  been 
better  entertained,  as  far  as  creature  comforts  go,  than  by 
men  of  very  Low  Church  principles ;  and  one  of  the  very 
best  repasts  that  ever  I  saw  in  my  life  was  at  Darlington, 
given  by  a  Quaker."  This  admirable  tradition  of  material 
comfort  allied  with  Evangelical  opinion  extended  into  my 
own  time.  The  characteristic  weakness  of  Mr.  Stiggins  has 
no  place  in  my  recollection ;  but  Mr.  Chadband  I  have 
frequently  met  in  Evangelical  circles,  both  inside  and  out- 
side the  Establishment.  Debarred  by  the  strictness  of 
their  principles  from  such  amusements  as  dancing,  cards, 
and  theatres,  the  Evangelicals  took  their  pleasure  in  eating 
and  drinking.  They  abounded  in  hospitaHty ;  and  when 
they  were  not  entertaining  or  being  entertained,  occupied 
their  evenings  with  systematic  reading,  which  gave  their 
religious  compositions  a  sound  basis  of  general  culture. 
Austerity,  gloom,  and  Pharisaism  had  no  place  among  the 
better  class  of  Evangelicals.  Wilberforce,  pronounced  by 
Madame  de  Stael  to  be  the  most  agreeable  man  in  England, 
was  of  "a  most  gay  and  genial  disposition;"  "lived  in 
perpetual  sunshine,  and  shed  its  radiance  all  around  him." 
Legh  Richmond  was  "exceedingly  good  company." 
Robinson  of  Leicester  was  "a  capital  conversationalist, 
very  lively  and  bright."  Alexander  Knox  found  that  Mrs. 
Hannah  More  "far  exceeded  his  expectations  in  pleasant 
manners  and  interesting  conversation." 

The  increasing  taste  for  solid  comfort  and  easy  living 
which  accompanied  the  development  of  humanitarianism, 
and  in  which,  as  we  have  just  seen,  the  Evangelicals  had 


96       COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

their  full  share,  was  evidenced  to  the  eye  by  the  changes 
in  domestic  architecture.  There  was  less  pretension  in 
exteriors  and  elevations,  but  more  regard  to  convenience 
and  propriety  within.  The  space  was  not  all  sacrificed  to 
reception-rooms.  Bedrooms  were  multiplied  and  en- 
larged ;  and  fireplaces  were  introduced  into  every  room, 
transforming  the  arctic  "  powdering-closet "  into  a  habitable 
dressing-room.  The  diminution  of  the  Window- Tax  made 
light  and  ventilation  possible.  Personal  cleanliness  became 
fashionable,  and  the  means  of  attaining  it  were  cultivated. 
The  whole  art  or  science  of  domestic  sanitation — rudiment- 
ary enough  in  its  beginnings — belongs  to  the  nineteenth 
century.  The  system  which  went  before  it  was  too  primi- 
tively abominable  to  bear  description.  Sir  Robert  Rawlin- 
son,  the  sanitary  expert,  who  was  called  in  to  inspect 
Windsor  Castle  after  the  Prince  Consort's  death,  reported 
that,  within  the  Queen's  reign,  "cesspools  full  of  putrid 
refuse  and  drains  of  the  worst  description  existed  beneath 
the  basements.  .  .  .  Twenty  of  these  cesspools  were  re- 
moved from  the  upper  ward,  and  twenty-eight  from  the 
middle  and  lower  wards.  .  .  .  Means  of  ventilation  by 
windows  in  Windsor  Castle  were  very  defective.  Even  in 
the  royal  apartments  the  upper  portions  of  the  windows 
were  fixed.  Lower  casements  alone  could  be  opened,  so 
that  by  far  the  largest  amount  of  air-spaces  in  the  rooms 
contained  vitiated  air,  comparatively  stagnant."  When 
this  was  the  condition  of  royal  abodes,  no  wonder  that  the 
typhoid-germ,  like  Solomon's  spider,  "took  hold  with  her 
hands,  and  was  in  kings'  palaces."  And  well  might  Sir 
George  Trevelyan,  in  his  ardent  youth,  exclaim  : — 

"  We  much  revere  our  sires ;    they  were  a  famous  race  of  men. 
For  every  glass  of  port  we  drink,  they  nothing  thought  of  ten. 
They  lived  above  the  foulest  drains,  they  breathed  the  closest  air. 
They  had  their  yearly  twinge  of  gout,  but  little  seemed  to  care. 
But,  though  they  burned  their  coals  at  home,  nor  fetched  their  ice 
from  Wenham, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        97 

They   played   the   man    before   Quebec    and    stormed    the    lines    at 

Blenheim. 
When  sailors  lived  on  mouldy  bread  and  lumps  of  rusty  pork, 
No  Frenchman  dared  to  show  his  nose  between  the  Downs  and  Cork. 
But  now  that  Jack  gets  beef  and  greens  and  next  his  skin  wears  flannel, 
The  Sia7tdard  sz.ys  we've  not  a  ship  in  plight  to  hold  the  Channel." 

So  much  for  Social  Amelioration. 


X. 

POLITICS. 

T  NOW  approach  the  political  condition  at  the  turn  of  the 
-*-  century,  and  that  was  to  a  great  extent  the  product  of 
the  French  Revolution.  Some  historians,  indeed,  when 
dealing  with  that  inexhaustible  theme,  have  wrought  cause 
and  effect  into  a  circular  chain,  and  have  reckoned  among 
the  circumstances  which  prepared  the  way  for  the  French 
Revolution  the  fact  that  Voltaire  in  his  youth  spent  three 
years  in  England,  and  mastered  the  philosophy  of  Bacon, 
Newton,  and  Locke,  the  Deism  of  the  English  Free- 
thinkers, and  the  English  theory  of  political  liberty.  That 
these  doctrines,  recommended  by  Voltaire's  mordant  genius 
and  matchless  style,  and  circulating  in  a  community  pre- 
pared by  tyranny  to  receive  them,  acted  as  a  powerful 
solvent  on  the  intellectual  basis  of  French  society,  is  indeed 
likely  enough.  But  to  pursue  the  theme  would  carry  us 
too  far  back  into  the  eighteenth  century.  In  dealing  with 
the  recollections  of  persons  whom  one's  self  has  known  we 
must  dismiss  from  view  the  causes  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. Our  business  is  with  its  effect  on  political  thought 
and  action  in  England. 

About  half  way  through  the  nineteenth  century  it  became 
the  fashion  to  make  out  that  the  elTect  of  the  Revolution 
on  England  had  been  exaggerated.  Satirists  made  fun  of 
our  traditional  Gallophobia.  In  that  admirable  skit  on 
philosophical  history,  the  introduction  to  the  Book  of  Snobs ^ 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.        99 

Thackeray  first  illustrates  his  theme  by  a  reference  to  the 
French  Revolution,  and  then  adds  (in  sarcastic  brackets) — 
"  Which  the  reader  will  be  pleased  to  have  introduced  so 
early."  Lord  Beaconsfield,  quizzing  John  Wilson  Croker  in 
Coningsby,  says  :  "  He  bored  his  audience  with  too  much 
history,  especially  the  French  Revolution,  which  he  fancied 
was  his  forte,  so  that  the  people  at  last,  whenever  he  made 
any  allusion  to  the  subject,  were  almost  as  much  terrified 
as  if  they  had  seen  the  guillotine."  In  spite  of  these  gibes, 
historians  have  of  late  years  returned  to  the  earlier  and 
truer  view,  and  have  deliberately  reaffirmed  the  tremendous 
effect  of  the  Revolution  on  English  politics.  The  philo- 
sophical Mr.  Lecky  says  that  it  influenced  English  history  in 
the  later  years  of  the  eighteenth  century  more  powerfully 
than  any  other  event ;  that  it  gave  a  completely  new  direc^ 
tion  to  the  statesmanship  of  Pitt;  that  it  instantaneously 
shattered,  and  rendered  ineffectual  for  a  whole  generation, 
one  of  the  two  great  parties  in  the  State ;  and  that  it 
determined  for  a  like  period  the  character  and  complexion 
of  our  foreign  policy. 

All  contemporary  Europe — all  subsequent  time — quivered 
with  the  shock  and  sickened  at  the  carnage ;  but  I  have 
gathered  that  it  was  not  till  the  capture  of  the  Bastille  that 
the  events  which  were  taking  place  in  France  attracted  any 
general  or  lively  interest  in  England.  The  strifes  of  rival 
politicians,  the  illness  of  George  III.,  and  the  consequent 
questions  as  to  the  Regency,  engrossed  the  public  mind, 
and  what  little  interest  was  felt  in  foreign  affairs  was  directed 
much  more  to  the  possible  designs  of  Russia  than  to  the 
actual  condition  of  France.  The  capture  of  the  Bastille, 
however,  was  an  event  so  startling  and  so  dramatic  that  it 
instantly  arrested  the  public  attention  of  England,  and  the 
events  which  immediately  followed  in  rapid  and  striking 
succession  raised  interest  into  excitement,  and  excitement 
into  passion.     Men  who  had  been  accustomed  from  their 


100      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

childhood  to  regard  the  Monarchy  of  France  as  the  type  of 
a  splendid,  powerful,  and  enduring  polity  now  saw  a  National 
Army  constituted  in  complete  independence  of  the  Crown  ; 
a  Representative  Body  assuming  absolute  power  and  deny- 
ing the  King's  right  to  dissolve;  the  summary  abrogation 
of  the  whole  feudal  system,  which  a  year  before  had  seemed 
endowed  with  perpetual  vigour;  an  insurrection  of  the 
peasantry  against  their  territorial  tyrants,  accompanied  by 
every  horror  of  pillage,  arson,  and  bloodshed ;  the  beautiful 
and  stately  Queen  flying,  half  naked,  for  her  life,  amid  the 
slaughter  of  her  sentinels  and  courtiers ;  and  the  King  him- 
self virtually  a  prisoner  in  the  very  Court  which,  up  to  that 
moment,  had  seemed  the  ark  and  sanctuary  of  absolute 
government.  All  over  England  these  events  produced  their 
immediate  and  natural  effect.  Enemies  of  religious  establish- 
ments took  courage  from  the  downfall  of  ecclesiastical 
institutions.  Enemies  of  monarchy  rejoiced  in  the  formal 
and  public  degradation  of  a  monarch.  Those  who  had  long 
been  conscientiously  working  for  Parliamentary  reform  saw 
with  glee  their  principles  expressed  in  the  most  uncompro- 
mising terms  in  the  French  Declaration  of  Rights,  and 
practically  applied  in  the  constitution  of  the  Sovereign  Body 
of  France. 

These  convinced  and  constitutional  reformers  found  new 
and  strange  allies.  Serious  advocates  of  Republican  institu- 
tions, mere  lovers  of  change  and  excitement,  secret  sympa- 
thizers with  lawlessness  and  violence,  sedentary  theorists, 
reckless  adventurers,  and  local  busybodies  associated  them- 
selves in  the  endeavour  to  popularize  the  French  Revolution 
in  England  and  to  imbue  the  English  mind  with  congenial 
sentiments.  The  movement  had  leaders  of  greater  mark. 
The  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  Lord 
Lansdowne  and  Lord  Stanhope,  held  language  about  the 
Sovereignty  of  the  People  such  as  filled  the  reverent  and 
orderly  mind  of  Burke  with  indignant  astonishment.     In 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      loi 

Dr.  Priestley  the  revolutionary  party  had  an  eminent  man 
of  science  and  a  polemical  writer  of  rare  power.  Dr.  Price 
was  a  rhetorician  whom  any  cause  would  have  gladly  en- 
listed as  its  champion.  The  Revolution  Society,  founded 
to  commemorate  the  capture  of  the  Bastille,  corresponded 
with  the  leaders  of  the  Revolution,  and  promised  its  alliance 
in  a  revolutionary  compact.  And,  to  add  a  touch  of  comedy 
to  these  more  serious  demonstrations,  the  young  Duke  of 
Bedford  and  other  leaders  of  fashion  discarded  hair-powder, 
and  wore  their  hair  cut  short  in  what  was  understood  to  be 
the  Republican  mode  of  Paris. 

Amidst  all  this  hurly-burly  Pitt  maintained  a  stately  and 
cautious  reserve.  Probably  he  foresaw  his  opportunity  in 
the  inevitable  disruption  of  his  opponents ;  and  if  so,  his 
foresight  was  soon  realized  by  events.  On  the  capture  of 
the  Bastille,  Fox  exclaimed  :  "  How  much  the  greatest  event 
it  is  that  ever  happened  in  the  world  !  and  how  much  the 
best ! "  At  the  same  time  Burke  was  writing  to  an  intimate 
friend  :  "  The  old  Parisian  ferocity  has  broken  out  in  a 
shocking  manner.  It  is  true  that  this  may  be  no  more  than 
a  sudden  explosion.  If  so,  no  indication  can  be  taken 
from  it ;  but  if  it  should  be  character  rather  than  accident, 
then  that  people  are  not  fit  for  liberty,  and  must  have  a 
strong  hand  like  that  of  their  former  masters  to  coerce  them." 
This  contrast  between  the  judgments  of  the  two  great 
Whigs  was  continuously  and  rapidly  heightened.  Fox 
threw  himself  into  the  revolutionary  cause  with  all  the  ardour 
which  he  had  displayed  on  behalf  of  American  independ- 
ence. Burke  opposed  with  characteristic  vehemence  the 
French  attempt  to  build  up  a  theoretical  Constitution  on 
the  ruins  of  religion,  history,  and  authority ;  and  any  fresh 
act  of  cruelty  or  oppression  which  accompanied  the  process 
stirred  in  him  that  tremendous  indignation  against  violence 
and  injustice  of  which  Warren  Hastings  had  learned  by 
stern  experience  the  intensity  and  the  volume.     The  Re- 


102      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

flections  on  the  French  Revolution  and  the  Appeal  from  the 

New  to  the   Old    Whigs   expressed   in  the  most  splendid 

■  English  which  was  ever  written  the  dire  apprehensions  that 

darlcehed  their  author's  receptive  and  impassioned  mind. 

[ "  A  voice  like  the  Apocalypse  sounded  over  England,  and 

{even  echoed  in  all  the  Courts  of  Europe.     Burke  poured 

I  the  vials  of  his  hoarded  vengeance  into  the  agitated  heart 

I  of  Christendom,  and  stimulated  the  panic  of  a  world  by  the 

wild  pictures  of  his  inspired  imagination." 

Meanwhile  the  Whig  party  was  rent  in  twain.  The  Duke 
of  Portland,  Lord  Fitzwilliam,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire, 
Lord  John  Cavendish,  and  Sir  George  Elliot  adhered  to 
Burke.  Fox  as  stoutly  opposed  him,  and  was  reinforced 
by  Sheridan,  Francis,  Erskine,  and  Grey,  The  pathetic 
issue  of  the  dispute,  in  Burke's  formal  repudiation  of  Fox's 
friendship,  has  taken  its  place  among  those  historic 
Partings  of  Friends  which  have  modified  the  course  of 
human  society.  As  far  as  can  now  be  judged,  the  bulk 
of  the  country  was  with  Burke,  and  the  execution  of  Louis 
XVI.  was  followed  by  an  astonishing  outbreak  of  popular 
feeling.  The  theatres  were  closed.  The  whole  population 
wore  mourning.  The  streets  rang  with  the  cry  "War  with 
France  !  "  The  very  pulpits  re-echoed  the  summons.  Fox 
himself  was  constrained  to  declare  to  the  electors  of  West- 
minster that  there  was  no  one  outside  France  who  did  not 
consider  this  sad  catastrophe  "  as  a  most  revolting  act  of 
cruelty  and  injustice." 

But  it  was  too  late.  The  horror  and  indignation  of 
England  were  not  to  be  allayed  by  soothing  words  of 
decorous  sympathy  from  men  who  had  applauded  the  earlier 
stages  of  the  tragedy,  though  they  wept  at  its  culmination. 
The  warlike  spirit  of  the  race  was  aroused,  and  it  spoke  in 
the  cry,  "  No  peace  with  the  regicides  ! "  Pitt  clearly  dis- 
cerned the  feeling  of  the  country,  and  promptly  gave  effect 
to  it.     He  dismissed  Chauvelin,  who  informally  represented 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      103 

the  Revolutionary  Government  in  London,  and  he  de- 
manded from  Parliament  an  immediate  augmentation  of 
the  forces. 

On  the  20th  of  January,  1793,  France  declared  war 
against  England.  The  great  struggle  had  begun,  and  that 
declaration  was  a  new  starting-point  in  the  political  history 
of  England.  English  parties  entered  into  new  combinations. 
English  politics  assumed  a  new  complexion.  Pitt's  imperial 
mind  maintained  its  ascendency,  but  the  drift  of  his  policy 
was  entirely  changed.  All  the  schemes  of  Parliamentary, 
financial,  and  commercial  reform  in  which  he  had  been 
immersed  yielded  place  to  the  stern  expedients  of  a 
Minister  fighting  for  his  life  against  revolution  abroad  and 
sedition  at  home.  For  though,  as  I  said  just  now,  popular 
sentiment  was  stirred  by  the  King's  execution  into  vehement 
hostility  to  France,  still  the  progress  of  the  war  was  attended 
by  domestic  consequences  which  considerably  modified  this 
sentiment.  Hostility  gave  way  to  passive  acquiescence, 
and  acquiescence  to  active  sympathy. 

Among  the  causes  which  produced  this  change  were 
the  immense  increase  of  national  burdens ;  the  sudden 
agglomeration  of  a  lawless  population  in  the  manufacturing 
towns  which  the  war  called  into  being ;  the  growing  diffi- 
culties in  Ireland,  where  revolutionary  theories  found  ready 
learners ;  the  absolute  abandonment  of  all  attempts  at  social 
and  political  improvement ;  the  dogged  determination  of 
those  in  authority  to  remedy  no  grievance  however  patent, 
and  to  correct  no  abuse  however  indefensible. 

The  wise  and  temperate  reforms  for  which  the  times 
were  ripe,  and  which  the  civil  genius  of  Pitt  pre-eminently 
qualified  him  to  effect,  were  not  only  suspended  but  finally 
abandoned  under  the  influence  of  an  insane  reaction.  The 
besotted  resistance  to  all  change  stimulated  the  desire  for 
it.  Physical  distress  co-operated  with  political  discontent 
to  produce  a  state  of  popular  disaffection  such  as  the  whole 


104      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

preceding  century  had  never  seen.  The  severest  measures 
of  coercion  and  repression  only,  and  scarcely,  restrained 
the  populace  from  open  and  desperate  insurrection,  and 
thirty  years  of  this  experience  brought  England  to  the 
verge  of  a  civil  catastrophe. 

Patriotism  was  lost  in  partisanship.  Political  faction 
ran  to  an  incredible  excess.  The  whole  community  was 
divided  into  two  hostile  camps.  Broadly  speaking,  the 
cause  of  France  was  espoused,  with  different  degrees  of 
fervour,  by  all  lovers  of  civil  and  religious  freedom.  To 
the  Whigs  the  humiliation  of  Pitt  was  a  more  cherished 
object  than  the  defeat  of  Napoleon.  Fox  wrote  to  a  friend  : 
"  The  triumph  of  the  French  Government  over  the  English 
does,  in  fact,  afford  me  a  degree  of  pleasure  which  it  is  very 
difficult  to  disguise ; "  and  I  have  gathered  that  this  was  the 
prevalent  temper  of  Whiggery  during  the  long  and  desperate 
struggle  with  Republican  and  Imperial  France.  What 
Byron  called  "The  crowning  carnage,  Waterloo,"  brought 
no  abatement  of  political  rancour.  The  question  of  France, 
indeed,  was  eliminated  from  the  contest,  but  its  elimination 
enabled  English  Liberals  to  concentrate  their  hostility  on 
the  Tory  Government  without  incurring  the  reproach  of 
unpatriotic  sympathy  with  the  enemies  of  England. 

In  the  great  fight  between  Tory  and  Whig,  Government 

and    Opposition,    Authority   and   Freedom,   there   was   no 

quarter.     Neither  age  nor  sex  was  spared.     No  department 

of  national  life  was  untouched  by  the  fury  of  the  contest. 

The  Royal  Family  was  divided.     The  Duke  of  Cumberland 

was  one  of  the  most  dogged  and  unscrupulous  leaders  of 

the  Tory  party ;  the  Duke  of  Sussex  toasted  the  memory 

of  Charles  James  Fox,  and  at  a  public  dinner  joined  in 

singing  "The  Trumpet  of  Liberty,"  of  which  the  chorus 

ran — ■ 

"  Fall,  tyrants,  fall  ! 
These  are  the  days  of  liberty  ; 
Fall,  tyrants,  fall  ! " 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      105 

The  Established  Church  was  on  the  side  of  authority ; 
the  Dissenters  stood  for  freedom.  "  Our  opponents,"  said 
Lord  John  Russell,  in  one  of  his  earliest  speeches — "our 
opponents  deafen  us  with  their  cry  of  '  Church  and  King.' 
Shall  I  tell  you  what  they  mean  by  it?  They  mean  a 
Church  without  the  Gospel  and  a  King  above  the  law." 
An  old  Radical  electioneer,  describing  the  activity  of  the 
country  clergy  on  the  Tory  side,  said  :  "  In  every  village 
we  had  the  Black  Recruiting-Sergeant  against  us,"  Even 
within  sacred  walls  the  echoes  of  the  fight  were  heard. 
The  State  Holy-days — Gunpowder  Treason,  Charles  the 
Martyr,  the  Restoration  and  the  Accession — gave  suitable 
occasion  for  sermons  of  the  most  polemical  vehemence. 
Even  the  two  Collects  for  the  King  at  the  beginning  of 
the  Communion  Service  were  regarded  as  respectively  Tory 
and  Whig.  The  first,  with  its  bold  assertion  of  the  Divine 
Right  of  Sovereignty,  was  that  which  commended  itself  to 
every  loyal  clergyman  on  his  promotion  ;  and  unfavourable 
conclusions  were  drawn  with  regard  to  the  civil  sentiments 
of  the  man  who  preferred  the  colourless  alternative.  As  in 
the  Church,  so  in  our  educational  system.  Oxford,  with  its 
Caroline  and  Jacobite  traditions,  was  the  Tory  University ; 
Cambridge,  the  nursing  mother  of  Whigs ;  Eton  was  sup- 
posed to  cherish  a  sentiment  of  romantic  affection  for  the 
Stuarts ;  Harrow  was  profoundly  Hanoverian.  Even  the 
drama  was  involved  in  political  antipathies,  and  the  most 
enthusiastic  adherents  of  Kean  and  Kemble  were  found 
respectively  among  the  leaders  of  Whig  and  Tory  Society. 

The  vigour,  heartiness,  and  sincerity  of  this  political 
hatred  put  to  shame  the  more  tepid  convictions  of  our 
degenerate  days.  The  first  Earl  of  Leicester,  better  known 
as  "  Coke  of  Norfolk,"  told  my  father  that  when  he  was  a 
child  his  grandfather  took  him  on  his  knee  and  said,  "  Now, 
remember,  Tom,  as  long  as  you  live,  never  trust  a  Tory ; " 
and  he  used  to  say,  "  I  never  have,  and,  by  George,  I  never 

5 


io6      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

will."  A  little  girl  of  Whig  descent,  accustomed  from  her 
cradle  to  hear  language  of  this  sort,  asked  her  mother, 
**  Mamma,  are  Tories  born  wicked,  or  do  they  grow  wicked 
afterwards?"  and  her  mother  judiciously  replied,  "They 
are  born  wicked,  and  grow  worse."  I  well  remember  in 
my  youth  an  eccentric  maiden  lady — Miss  Harriet  Panny 
Cuyler — who  had  spent  a  long  and  interesting  life  in  the 
innermost  circles  of  aristocratic  Whiggery ;  and  she  always 
refused  to  enter  a  four-wheel  cab  until  she  had  extorted 
from  the  driver  his  personal  assurance  that  he  never  had 
cases  of  infectious  disease  in  his  cab,  that  he  was  not  a 
Puseyite,  and  was  a  Whig. 

I  am  bound  to  say  that  this  vehement  prejudice  was  not 
unnatural  in  a  generation  that  remembered,  either  personally 
or  by  immediate  tradition,  the  iron  coercion  which  Pitt 
exercised  in  his  later  days,  and  which  his  successors  con- 
tinued. The  barbarous  executions  for  high  treason  remain 
a  blot  on  the  fair  fame  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Scarcely 
less  horrible  were  the  trials  for  sedition,  which  sent  an 
English  clergyman  to  transportation  for  life  because  he  had 
signed  a  petition  in  favour  of  Parliamentary  reform. 

"  The  good  old  Code,  like  Argus,  had  a  hundred  watchful  eyes, 
And  each  old  English  peasant  had  his  good  old  English  spies, 
To  tempt  his  starving  discontent  with  good  old  English  lies, 
Then  call  the  British  yeomanry  to  stop  his  peevish  cries." 

At  Woburn,  a  market  town  forty  miles  from  London,  under 
the  very  shadow  of  a  great  Whig  house,  no  political  meeting 
could  be  held  for  fear  of  Pitt's  spies,  who  dropped  down 
from  London  by  the  night  coach  and  returned  to  lay  infor- 
mation against  popular  speakers ;  and  when  the  politicians 
of  the  place  desired  to  express  their  sentiments,  they  had 
to  repair  secretly  to  an  adjacent  village  off  the  coach  road, 
where  they  were  harangued  under  cover  of  night  by  the 
young  sons  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford. 

The  ferocity,  the  venality,  the  profligate  expenditure,  the 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      107 

delirious  excitement  of  contested  elections  have  made  an 
indelible  mark  on  our  political  history.  In  1780  King 
George  III.  personally  canvassed  the  Borough  of  Windsor 
against  the  Whig  candidate,  Admiral  Keppel,  and  pro- 
pitiated a  silk-mercer  by  calling  at  his  shop  and  saying, 
"The  Queen  wants  a  gown — wants  a  gown.  No  Keppel. 
No  Keppel."  It  is  pleasant  to  reflect  that  the  friends  of 
freedom  were  not  an  inch  behind  the  upholders  of  tyranny 
in  the  vigour  and  adroitness  of  their  electioneering  methods. 
The  contest  for  the  City  of  Westminster  in  1788  is  thus  de- 
scribed in  the  manuscript  diary  of  Lord  Robert  Seymour  : — 

"The  Riotts  of  the  Westr.  Election  are  carried  such 
lengths  the  Military  obliged  to  be  called  into  the  assist- 
ance of  Ld.  Hood's  party.  Several  Persons  have  been 
killed  by  Ld.  J.  Townsend's  Butchers  who  cleave  them 
to  the  Ground  with  their  Cleavers — Mr.  Fox  very  narrowly 
escaped  being  killed  by  a  Bayonet  wch.  w'd  certainly  have 
been  fatal  had  not  a  poor  Black  saved  him  fm.  the  blow. 
Mr.  Macnamara's  Life  is  despaired  of — &  several  others 
have  died  in  the  difft.  Hospitals.  Next  Thursday  decides 
the  business. 

"July  25. — Lord  John  Townsend  likely  to  get  the 
Election — what  has  chiefly  contributed  to  Ld.  Hood's 
losing  it  is  that  Mr.  Pulteney  is  his  Friend — Mr.  P.  can 
command  1^500  Votes — &  as  he  is  universally  disliked  by 
his  Tenants  they  are  unanimous  in  voting  against  him — 
wch.  for  Ld.  H.  proves  a  very  unfortunate  circumstance. 
The  Duke  of  Bedford  sent  ;;^  10,000  towards  the  Expenses 
of  the  Opposition. 

"  It  is  thought  that  Lord  Hood  will  not  attempt  a 
Scrutiny.  One  of  Ld.  Hood's  votes  was  discovered  to  be 
a  carrot-scraper  in  St.  James's  Market  who  sleeps  in  a  little 
Kennel  about  the  Size  of  a  Hen  Coup. 

"  Augt.  5th — The  Election  decided  in  favour  of  Ld.  J.  T., 
who  was  chaired — and  attend'd  by  a  Procession  of  a  mile 


io8     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

in  length.  On  his  Head  was  a  crown  of  Laurel.  C.  Fox 
foUow'd  him  in  a  Landau  &  6  Horses  cover'd  in  Favors 
&  Lawrels.  The  appearance  this  Procession  made  was 
equal  in  splendor  to  the  public  Entry  of  an  Ambassador." 

A  by-election  was  impending  in  Yorkshire,  and  Pitt, 
paying  a  social  visit  to  the  famous  Mrs.  B. — one  of  the 
Whig  Queens  of  the  West  Riding  —  said,  banteringly, 
"Well,  the  election  is  all  right  for  us.  Ten  thousand 
guineas  for  the  use  of  our  side  go  down  to  Yorkshire 
to-night  by  a  sure  hand."  "  The  devil  they  do  !  "  responded 
Mrs.  B.,  and  that  night  the  bearer  of  the  precious  burden 
was  stopped  by  a  highwayman  on  the  Great  North  Road, 
and  the  ten  thousand  guineas  were  used  to  procure  the 
return  of  the  Whig  candidate.  The  electioneering  methods, 
less  adventurous  but  not  more  scrupulous,  of  a  rather  later 
day  have  been  depicted  in  Pickwick,  and  Coningsby,  and 
My  Novell  and  Middlemarch,  with  all  the  suggestive  fun  of 
a  painting  by  Hogarth. 

And  so,  with  startling  incidents  and  culpable  expedients 
and  varying  fortunes,  the  great  struggle  for  political  freedom 
was  conducted  through  the  first  thirty  years  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  and  it  has  been  my  interesting  fortune  to  know 
some  of  the  toughest  of  the  combatants  both  among  the 
leaders  and  in  the  rank-and-file.  And  from  all  of  them 
alike — and  not  only  from  them,  but  from  all  who  remembered 
the  time — I  have  gathered  the  impression  that  all  through 
their  earlier  life  the  hidden  fires  of  revolution  were 
smouldering  under  English  society,  and  that  again  and 
again  an  actual  outbreak  was  only  averted  by  some  happy 
stroke  of  fortune.  At  the  Election  of  1868  an  old  labourer 
in  the  agricultural  Borough  of  Woodstock  told  a  Liberal 
canvasser  from  Oxford  that  in  his  youth  arms  had  been 
stored  in  his  father's  cottage  so  as  to  be  in  readiness  for 
the  outbreak  which  was  to  take  place  if  Lord  Grey's 
Reform    Bill   was    finally   defeated.      A   Whig   nobleman, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      109 

of  great  experience  and  calm  judgment,  told  me  that  if 
Princess  Victoria  had  died  before  William  IV.,  and  thereby 
Ernest  Duke  of  Cumberland  had  succeeded  to  the  Throne, 
no  earthly  power  could  have  averted  a  revolution.  "  I 
have  no  hesitation  in  saying,"  I  heard  Mr.  Gladstone  say, 
"  that  if  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  had  been  defeated,  or 
even  retarded,  we  should  have  had  a  revolution."  Charles 
Kingsley  and  his  fellow-workers  for  Social  Reform  expected 
a  revolution  in  April  1848. 

But,  after  all,  these  testimonies  belong  to  the  region  of 
conjecture.  Let  me  close  this  chapter  by  a  narrative  of 
fact,  derived  from  the  late  Lord  de  Ros,  who  was  an 
eye-witness  of  the  events  which  he  narrated.  Arthur 
Thistlewood  (whose  execution  for  the  "  Cato  Street  Con- 
spiracy "  I  have  described  in  a  previous  chapter)  was  a 
young  Englishman  who  had  been  in  Paris  in  the  time  of 
Robespierre's  ascendency,  and  had  there  imbibed  revolu- 
tionary sentiments.  He  served  for  a  short  time  as  an 
officer  in  the  English  Army,  and  after  quitting  the  service 
he  made  himself  notorious  by  trying  to  organize  a  political 
riot  in  London,  for  which  he  was  tried  and  acquitted.  He 
subsequently  collected  round  him  a  secret  society  of  dis- 
affected citizens,  and  proceeded  to  arrange  a  plan  by  which 
he  hoped  to  paralyze  Government  and  establish  a  Reign  of 
Terror  in  London. 

One  evening,  in  the  winter  of  1819-20,  a  full-dress  ball 
was  given  by  the  Spanish  Ambassador  in  Portland  Place, 
and  was  attended  by  the  Prince  Regent,  the  Royal  Dukes, 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  the  Ministers  of  State,  and  the 
leaders  of  fashion  and  society.  "About  one  o'clock,  just 
before  supper,  a  sort  of  order  was  circulated  among  the 
junior  officers  to  draw  towards  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
though  no  one  knew  for  what  reason,  except  that  an 
unusual  crowd  had  assembled  in  the  street.  The  appear- 
ance of  Lavender  and  one  or  two  well-known  Bow  Street 


110      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

officers  in  the  entrance-hall  also  gave  rise  to  surmises  of 
some  impending  riot.  While  the  officers  were  whispering 
to  one  another  as  to  what  was  expected  to  happen,  a  great 
noise  was  heard  in  the  street,  the  crowd  dispersed  with  loud 
cries  in  all  directions,  and  a  squadron  of  the  2nd  Life 
Guards  arrived  with  drawn  swords  at  a  gallop  from  their 
barracks  (then  situate  in  King  Street),  and  rapidly  formed 
in  front  of  the  Ambassador's  house.  Lavender  and  the  Bow 
Street  officers  now  withdrew ;  the  officers  who  had  gathered 
about  the  stairhead  were  desired  to  return  to  the  ballroom. 

"The  alarm,  whatever  it  might  have  been,  appeared  to 
be  over,  and  before  the  company  broke  up  the  Life  Guards 
had  been  withdrawn  to  their  barracks.  Inside  the  Ambas- 
sador's  house  all  had  remained  so  quiet  that  very  few  of  the 
ladies  present  were  aware  till  next  day  that  anything  un- 
usual had  happened,  but  it  became  known  after  a  short 
time  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington  had  received  information 
of  an  intended  attack  upon  the  house,  which  the  pre- 
cautions taken  had  probably  prevented ;  and  upon  the  trial 
of  Thistlewood  and  his  gang  (for  the  Cato  Street  Conspir- 
acy) it  came  out,  among  other  evidence  of  the  various  wild 
schemes  they  had  formed,  that  Thistlewood  had  certainly 
entertained  the  project,  at  the  time  of  this  ball,  to  attack 
the  Spanish  Ambassador's  house,  and  destroy  the  Regent 
and  other  Royal  personages,  as  well  as  the  Ministers,  who 
were  sure  to  be,  most  of  them,  present  on  the  occasion.'' 

For  details  of  the  Cato  Street  Conspiracy  the  curious 
reader  is  referred  to  the  Annual  Register  for  1820,  and  it  is 
strange  to  reflect  that  these  explosions  of  revolutionary  rage 
occurred  well  within  the  recollection  of  people  now  *  living, 
among  whom  I  hope  it  is  not  invidious  to  mention  Mr. 
Charles  Villiers,t  Lady  Mary  Saurin,  J  and  Lady  Glentworth.^ 

*  1897.         t  The  Right  Hon.  C.  P.  Villiers,  M.P.,  1802-98. 
X  Lady  Mary  Saurin  {nJe  Ryder),  1801-1900. 
§  Eve  Maria,  Viscountess  Glentworth,  1803-19. 


XL 

PARLIAMENTARY    ORATORY. 

/'^^LOSELY  connected  with  the  subject  of  Politics,  of 
^^^  which  we  were  speaking  in  the  last  chapter,  is  that  of 
Parliamentary  Oratory,  and  for  a  right  estimate  of  oratory 
personal  impressions  (such  as  those  on  which  I  have  relied) 
are  peculiarly  valuable.  They  serve  both  to  correct  and  to 
confirm.  It  is  impossible  to  form  from  the  perusal  of  a 
printed  speech  anything  but  the  vaguest  and  often  the 
most  erroneous  notion  of  the  effect  which  it  produced  upon 
its  hearers.  But  from  the  testimony  of  contemporaries  one 
can  often  gain  the  clue  to  what  is  otherwise  unintelligible. 
One  learns  what  were  the  special  attributes  of  bearing, 
voice,  or  gesture,  the  circumstances  of  delivery,  or  even  the 
antecedent  conditions  of  character  and  reputation,  which 
perhaps  doomed  some  magnificent  peroration  to  ludicrous 
failure,  or,  on  the  contrary,  "ordained  strength"  out  of 
stammering  lips  and  disjointed  sentences.  Testimony  of 
this  kind  the  circumstances  of  my  life  have  given  me  in 
great  abundance.  My  chain  of  tradition  links  me  to  the 
days  of  the  giants. 

Almost  all  the  old  people  whose  opinions  and  experience 
I  have  recorded  were  connected,  either  personally  or 
through  their  nearest  relations,  with  one  or  other  of  the 
Houses  of  Parliament  Not  a  few  of  them  were  con- 
spicuous actors  on  the  stage  of  political  life.  Lord  Robert 
Seymour,  from  whose  diary  I  have  quoted,  died  in   1831, 


112     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

after  a  long  life  spent  in  the  House  of  Commons,  which  he 
entered  in  1771,  and  of  which  for  twenty-three  years  he  was 
a  fellow-member  with  Edmund  Burke.  Let  me  linger  for  a 
moment  on  that  illustrious  name. 

In  originality,  erudition,  and  accomplishments  Burke 
had  no  rival  among  Parliamentary  speakers.  His  prose  is, 
as  we  read  it  now,  the  most  fascinating,  the  most  musical, 
in  the  English  language.  It  bears  on  every  page  the  divine 
lineaments  of  genius.  Yet  an  orator  requires  something 
more  than  mere  force  of  words.  He  must  feel,  while  he 
speaks,  the  pulse  of  his  audience,  and  instinctively  regulate 
every  sentence  by  reference  to  their  feelings.  All  contem- 
porary evidence  shows  that  in  this  kind  of  oratorical  tact 
Burke  was  eminently  deficient.  His  nickname,  "  The 
Dinner-bell  of  the  House  of  Commons,"  speaks  for  his 
effect  on  the  mind  of  the  average  M.P.  "  In  vain,"  said 
Moore,  "  did  Burke's  genius  put  forth  its  superb  plumage, 
glittering  all  over  with  the  hundred  eyes  of  fancy.  The  gait 
of  the  bird  was  heavy  and  awkward,  and  its  voice  seemed 
rather  to  scare  than  attract." 

Macaulay  has  done  full  justice  to  the  extraordinary  blaze 
of  brilliancy  which  on  supreme  occasions  threw  these  minor 
defects  into  the  shade.  Even  now  the  old  oak  rafters  of 
Westminster  Hall  seem  to  echo  that  superlative  peroration 
which  taught  Mrs.  Siddons  a  higher  flight  of  tragedy  than 
her  own,  and  made  the  accused  proconsul  feel  himself  for 
the  moment  the  guiltiest  of  men.  Mr.  Gladstone  declared 
that  Burke  was  directly  responsible  for  the  war  with  France, 
for  "  Pitt  could  not  have  resisted  him."  For  the  more 
refined,  the  more  cultivated,  the  more  speculative  intellects 
he  had — and  has — an  almost  supernatural  charm.  His 
style  is  without  any  exception  the  richest,  the  most  pictur- 
esque, the  most  inspired  and  inspiring  in  the  language.  In 
its  glories  and  its  terrors  it  resembles  the  Apocalypse. 
Mr.  Morley,  in  the  most  striking  of  all  his  critical  essays, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      113 

has  truly  said  that  the  natural  ardour  which  impelled  Burke 
to  clothe  his  judgments  in  glowing  and  exaggerated  phrases 
is  one  secret  of  his  power  over  us,  because  it  kindles  in 
those  who  are  capable  of  that  generous  infection  a  respond- 
ent interest  and  sympathy.  "  He  has  the  sacred  gift  of 
inspiring  men  to  care  for  high  things,  and  to  make  their 
lives  at  once  rich  and  austere.  Such  a  gift  is  rare  indeed. 
We  feel  no  emotion  of  revolt  when  Mackintosh  speaks  of 
Shakespeare  and  Burke  in  the  same  breath  as  being,  both 
of  them,  above  mere  talent.  We  do  not  dissent  when 
Macaulay,  after  reading  Burke's  works  over  again,  ex-  1 
claims :  *  How  admirable  !  The  greatest  man  since  f 
Milton ! ' " 

No  sane  critic  would  dream  of  comparing  the  genius  of 
Pitt  with  that  of  Burke.  Yet  where  Burke  failed  Pitt  f 
succeeded,  Burke's  speeches,  indeed,  are  a  part  of  our  I 
national  literature ;  Pitt  was,  in  spite  of  grave  and  undeni- 
able  faults,  the  greatest  Minister  that  ever  governed 
England.  Foremost  among  the  gifts  by  which  he  acquired 
his  supreme  ascendency  must  be  placed  his  power  of  par- 
liamentary speaking.  He  was  not,  as  his  father  was,  an 
orator  in  that  highest  sense  of  oratory  which  implies  some- 
thing of  inspiration,  of  genius,  of  passionate  and  poetic 
rapture  ;  but  he  was  a  public  speaker  of  extraordinary  merit. 
He  had  while  still  a  youth  what  Coleridge  aptly  termed  "  a 
premature  and  unnatural  dexterity  in  the  combination  of 
words,"  and  this  developed  into  "  a  power  of  pouring  forth 
with  endless  facility  perfectly  modulated  sentences  of  per- 
fectly chosen  language,  which  as  far  surpassed  the  reach  of 
a  normal  intellect  as  the  feats  of  an  acrobat  exceed  the 
capacities  of  a  normal  body."  It  was  eloquence  particularly 
well  calculated  to  sway  a  popular  assembly  which  yet  had 
none  of  the  characteristics  of  a  mob.  A  sonorous  voice  ;  a 
figure  and  bearing  which,  though  stiff  and  ungainly,  were 
singularly  dignified ;  an  inexhaustible  copiousness  of  gran- 


114      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

diloquent  phrase  ;  a  peculiar  vein  of  sarcasm  which  froze 
like  ice  and  cut  like  steel — these  were  some  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  oratory  which  from  1782  to  1806  at  once 
awed  and  fascinated  the  House  of  Commons. 

I  "  I  never  want  a  word,  but  Mr.  Pitt  always  has  at  com- 
mand the  right  word."     This  was  the  generous  tribute  of 

1  Pitt's  most  eminent  rival,  Charles  James  Fox.  Never  were 
great  opponents  in  public  life  more  exactly  designed  by 
Nature  to  be  contrasts  to  one  another.  While  every  tone 
of  Pitt's  voice  and  every  muscle  of  his  countenance  ex- 
pressed with  unmistakable  distinctness  the  cold  and  stately 
composure  of  his  character,  every  particle  of  Fox's  mental 
and  physical  formation  bore  witness  to  his  fiery  and  pas- 
sionate enthusiasm.  "What  is  that  fat  gentleman  in  such 
a  passion  about  ?  "  was  the  artless  query  of  the  late  Lord 
Eversley,  who,  as  Mr.  Speaker  Shaw-Lefevre,  so  long  presided 
over  the  House  of  Commons,  and  who  as  a  child  had  been 
taken  to  the  gallery  to  hear  Mr.  Fox.  While  Pitt  was  the 
embodied  representative  of  Order,  his  rival  was  the  Apostle 
and  Evangelist  of  Liberty.  If  the  master  passion  of  Pitt's 
mind  was  enthusiasm  for  his  country,  Fox  was  swayed  by 
the  still  nobler  enthusiasm  of  Humanity.  His  style  of 
oratory  was  the  exact  reflex  of  his  mind.  He  was  un- 
equalled in  passionate  argument,  in  impromptu  reply,  in 
ready  and  spontaneous  declamation.  His  style  was  un- 
studied to  a  fault.  Though  he  was  so  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  great  models  of  classical  antiquity,  his  oratory 
owed  little  to  the  contact,  and  nothing  to  the  formal  arts 
of  rhetoric ;  everything  to  inborn  genius  and  the  greatness 
of  the  cause  which  he  espoused.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
point  to  a  single  public  question  of  his  time  on  which  his 
voice  did  not  sound  with  rousing  effect,  and  whenever  that 
voice  was  heard  it  was  on  behalf  of  freedom,  humanity,  and 
the  sacred  brotherhood  of  nations. 

I  pass  on  to  the  orator  of  whose  masterpiece  Fox  said 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      115 

that  "  eloquent  indeed  it  was ;  so  much  so  that  all  he  had 
ever  heard,  all  he  had  ever  read,  dwindled  into  nothing,  and 
vanished  like  vapour  before  the  sun."  In  sparkling  bril- 
liancy and  pointed  wit.  in  all  the  livelier  graces  of  declama- 
tion and  delivery,  Sheridan  surpassed  all  his  contemporaries. 
When  he  concluded  his  speech  on  the  charge  against  Warren 
Hastings  of  plundering  the  Begums  of  Oude,  the  peers  and 
strangers  joined  with  the  House  in  a  tumult  of  applause, 
and  could  not  be  restrained  from  clapping  their  hands  in 
ecstasy.  The  House  adjourned  in  order  to  recover  its  self- 
possession.  Pitt  declared  that  this  speech  surpassed  all  the 
eloquence  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  and  possessed 
everything  that  genius  or  art  could  furnish  to  agitate  or 
control  the  human  mind.  And  yet,  while  Sheridan's 
supreme  efforts  met  with  this  startling  success,  his  deficien- 
cies in  statesmanship  and  character  prevented  him  from 
commanding  that  position  in  the  House  and  in  the  Govern- 
ment which  his  oratorical  gift,  if  not  thus  handicapped, 
must  have  secured  for  its  possessor. 

As  a  speaker  in  his  own  sphere  Lord  Erskine  was  not 
inferior  to  the  greatest  of  his  contemporaries;  He  excelled 
in  fire,  force,  and  passion.  Lord  Brougham  finely  described 
"  that  noble  figure  every  look  of  whose  countenance  is 
expressive,  every  motion  of  whose  form  graceful;  an  eye 
that  sparkles  and  pierces  and  almost  assures  victory,  while 
it  '  speaks  audience  ere  the  tongue.' "  Yet,  as  is  so  often  the 
case,  the  unequalled  advocate  found  himself  in  the  House 
of  Commons  less  conspicuously  successful  than  he  had  been 
at  the  Bar.  The  forensic  manner  of  speech,  in  which  he 
was  a  head  and  shoulders  higher  than  any  of  his  legal  con- 
temporaries, is,  after  all,  distinct  from  parliamentary  elo- 
quence. 

The  same  disqualification  attached  to  the  oratory  of  Lord 
Brougham,  whose  speech  at  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Lords 
in   defence   of  Queen    Caroline    had    made    so   deep    an 


ii6      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

impression.  His  extraordinary  fierceness  and  even  violence 
of  nature  pervaded  his  whole  physical  as  well  as  intellectual 
being.  When  he  spoke  he  was  on  springs  and  quicksilver, 
and  poured  forth  sarcasm,  invective,  argument,  and  dec- 
lamation  in  a  promiscuous  and  headlong  flood.  Yet  all 
contemporary  evidence  shows  that  his  grandest  efforts  were 
dogged  by  the  inevitable  fate  of  the  man  who,  not  content 
with  excellence  in  one  or  two  departments,  aims  at  the 
highest  point  in  all.  In  reading  his  speeches,  while  one 
admires  the  versatility,  one  is  haunted  by  that  fatal  sense  of 
superficiality  which  gave  rise  to  the  saying  that  "  if  the 
Lord  Chancellor  only  knew  a  little  law  he  would  know 
something  about  everything." 

Pitt  died  in  1806,  but  he  lived  long  enough  to  hear  the 
splendid  eloquence  of  Grattan,  rich  in  imagination,  metaphor, 
and  epigram  ;  and  to  open  the  doors  of  the  official  hierarchy 
to  George  Canning.  Trained  by  Pitt,  and  in  many  gifts 
and  graces  his  superior,  Canning  first  displayed  his  full 
greatness  after  the  death  of  his  illustrious  master.  For 
twenty  years  he  was  the  most  accomplished  debater  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  yet  he  never  succeeded  in  winning 
the  full  confidence  of  the  nation,  nor,  except  in  foreign 
affairs,  in  leaving  his  mark  upon  our  national  policy,  "The 
English  are  afraid  of  genius,"  and  when  genius  is  displayed 
in  the  person  of  a  social  adventurer,  however  brilliant  and 
delightful,  it  is  doubly  alarming. 

We  can  judge  of  Canning's  speeches  more  exactly  than 
of  those  of  his  predecessors,  for  by  the  time  that  he  had 
become  famous  the  art  of  parliamentary  reporting  had 
attained  almost  to  its  present  perfection ;  and  there  are 
none  which  more  amply  repay  critical  study.  Second  only 
to  Burke  in  the  grandeur  and  richness  of  his  imagery,  he 
greatly  excelled  him  in  readiness,  in  tact,  and  in  those 
adventitious  advantages  which  go  so  far  to  make  an  orator. 
Mr.  Gladstone  remembered  the  "  light  and  music  "  of  the 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.       117 

eloquence  with  which  he  had  fascinated  Liverpool  seventy 
years  before.  Scarcely  any  one  contributed  so  many  beauti- 
ful thoughts  and  happy  phrases  to  the  common  stock  of 
public  speech.  All  contemporary  observers  testify  to  the 
effect  produced  by  the  proud  strength  of  his  declaration  on 
foreign  policy  :  "  I  called  the  New  World  into  existence,  to 
redress  the  balance  of  the  Old."  And  the  language  does 
not  contain  a  more  magnificent  or  perfect  image  than  that 
in  which  he  likens  a  strong  nation  at  peace  to  a  great  man- 
of-war  lying  calm  and  motionless  till  the  moment  for  action 
comes,  when  "  it  puts  forth  all  its  beauty  and  its  bravery 
collects  its  scattered  elements  of  strength,  and  awakens  its 
dormant  thunder." 

Lord  John  Russell  entered  the  House  of  Commons  in 
18 13,  and  le^t  it  m  1861.  He  used  to  say  that  in  his  early 
days  there  were  a  dozen  men  there  who  could  make  a  finer 
speech  than  any  one  now  living ;  "  but,"  he  used  to  add, 
"  there  were  not  another  dozen  who  could  understand  what 
they  were  talking  about."  I  asked  him  who  was,  on  the 
whole,  the  best  speaker  he  ever  heard.  He  answered, 
"Lord  Plunket,"  and  subsequently  gave  as  his  reason  this 
— tnat  while  Plunket  had  his  national  Irish  gifts  of  fluency, 
brilliant  imagination,  and  ready  wit  very  highly  developed, 
they  were  all  adjuncts  to  his  strong,  cool,  inflexible  argu- 
ment. This,  it  will  be  readily  observed,  is  a  very  rare  and  a 
very  striking  combination,  and  goes  far  to  account  for  the 
transcendent  success  which  Plunket  attained  at  the  Bar  and 
in  the  House,  and  alike  in  the  Irish  and  the  English 
Parliament.  Lord  Brougham  said  of  him  that  his  eloquence 
was  a  continuous  flow  of  '*  clear  statement,  close  reasoning, 
felicitous  illustration,  all  confined  strictly  to  the  subject  in 
hand ;  every  portion,  without  any  exception,  furthering  the 
process  of  conviction  ; "  and  I  do  not  know  a  more  im- 
pressive passage  of  sombre  passion  than  the  peroration  of 
his  first  speech  against  the  Act  of  Union :  "  For  my  own 


ii8      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

part,  I  will  resist  it  to  the  last  gasp  of  my  existence,  and 
with  the  last  drop  of  my  blood ;  and  when  I  feel  the  hour 
of  my  dissolution  approaching,  I  will,  like  the  father  of 
Hannibal,  take  my  children  to  the  altar  and  swear  them 
to  eternal  hostility  against  the  invaders  of  their  country's 
freedom." 

Before  the  death  of  Pitt  another  great  man  had  risen  to 
eminence,  though  the  main  achievement  of  his  life  associates 
him  with  1832.  Lord  Grej^  was  distinguished  by  a  stately 
and  massive  eloqiience  which  exactly  suited  his  high 
purpose  and  earnest  gravity  of  nature,  while  its  effect  was 
enormously  enhanced  by  his  handsome  presence  and  kingly 
bearing.  Though  the  leader  of  the  popular  cause,  he  was 
an  aristocrat  in  nature,  and  pre-eminently  qualified  for  the 
great  part  which,  during  twenty  years,  he  played  in  that 
essentially  aristocratic  assembly — the  unreformed  House  of 
Commons.  In  a  subsequent  chapter  I  hope  to  say  a  little 
about  parliamentary  orators  of  a  rather  more  recent  date ; 
and  here  it  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  compare  the  House 
of  Commons  as  we  have  seen  it  and  known  it,  modified  by 
successive  extensions  of  the  suffrage,  with  what  it  was  before 
Grey  and  Russell  destroyed  for  ever  its  exclusive  character. 

The  following  description  is  taken  from  Lord  Beacons- 
field,  who  is  drawing  a  character  derived  in  part  from  Sir 
Francis  Burdett  (17 70-1840),  and  in  part  from  George 
Byng,  who  was  M.P.  for  Middlesex  for  fifty-six  years,  and 
died  in  1847  : — "He  was  the  Father  of  the  House,  though 
it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  from  his  appearance.  He 
was  tall,  and  kept  his  distinguished  figure  ;  a  handsome 
man  with  a  musical  voice,  and  a  countenance  now  benignant, 
though  very  bright  and  once  haughty.  He  still  retained 
the  same  fashion  of  costume  in  which  he  had  ridden  up  to 
Westminster  more  than  half  a  century  ago  to  support  his 
dear  friend  Charles  Fox — real  topboots  and  a  blue  coat 
and  buff  waistcoat.     He  had  a  large  estate,  and  had  refused 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      119 

an  earldom.  Knowing  E.,  he  came  and  sate  by  him  one 
day  in  the  House,  and  asked  him,  good-naturedly,  how  he 
liked  his  new  life.  It  is  very  different  from  what  it  was 
when  I  was  your  age.  Up  to  Easter  we  rarely  had  a  regular 
debate,  never  a  party  division  ;  very  few  people  came  up 
indeed.  But  there  was  a  good  deal  of  speaking  on  all 
subjects  before  dinner.  We  had  the  privilege  then  of 
speaking  on  the  presentation  of  petitions  at  any  length,  and 
we  seldom  spoke  on  any  other  occasion.  After  Easter 
there  was  always  at  least  one  great  party  fight.  This  was  a 
mighty  affair,  talked  of  for  weeks  before  it  came  off,  and 
then  rarely  an  adjourned  debate.  We  were  gentlemen, 
used  to  sit  up  late,  and  should  have  been  sitting  up  some- 
where else  had  we  not  been  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
After  this  party  fight  the  House  for  the  rest  of  the  session 
was  a  mere  club.  .  .  .  The  House  of  Commons  was  very 
much  like  what  the  House  of  Lords  is  now.  You  went 
home  to  dine,  and  then  came  back  for  an  important 
division.  .  .  .  Twenty  years  ago  no  man  would  think  of 
coming  down  to  the  House  except  in  evening  dress.  I  re- 
member so  late  as  Mr.  Canning  the  Minister  always  came 
down  in  silk  stockings  and  pantaloons  or  knee-breeches. 
All  these  things  change,  and  quoting  Virgil  will  be  the  next 
thing  to  disappear.  In  the  last  Parliament  we  often  had 
Latin  quotations,  but  never  from  a  member  with  a  new 
constituency.  I  have  heard  Greek  quoted  here,  but  that 
was  long  ago,  and  a  great  mistake.  The  House  was  quite 
alarmed.  Charles  Fox  used  to  say  as  to  quotation,  '  No 
Greek  ;  as  much  Latin  as  you  like ;  and  never  French 
under  any  circumstances.  No  English  poet  unless  he  has 
completed  his  century.'  These  were,  like  some  other 
good  rules,  the  unwritten  orders  of  the  House  of  Commons." 


XII. 

PARLIAMENTARY  OKKYOKY— continued. 

T  CONCLUDED  my  last  chapter  with  a  quotation  from 
-*-  Lord  Beaconsfield,  describing  parliamentary  speaking  as 
it  was  when  he  entered  the  House  of  Commons  in  1837. 
Of  that  particular  form  of  speaking  perhaps  the  greatest 
master  was  Sir  Robert  Peel.  He  was  deficient  in  those 
gifts  of  imagination  and  romance  which  are  essential  to 
the  highest  oratory.  He  utterly  lacked — possibly  he  would 
have  despised — that  almost  prophetic  rapture  which  we 
recognize  in  Burke  and  Chatham  and  Erskine.  His  manner 
was  frigid  and  pompous,  and  his  rhetorical  devices  were 
mechanical.  Every  parliamentary  sketch  of  the  time 
satirizes  his  habit  of  turning  round  towards  his  supporters 
at  given  periods  to  ask  for  their  applause  ;  his  trick  of 
emphasizing  his  points  by  perpetually  striking  the  box 
before  him ;  and  his  inveterate  propensity  to  indulge  in 
hackneyed  quotation.  But  when  we  have  said  this  we  have 
said  all  that  can  be  urged  in  his  disparagement.  As  a 
parliamentary  speaker  of  the  second  and  perhaps  most 
useful  class  he  has  never  been  excelled.  Firmly  though 
dispassionately  persuaded  of  certain  political  and  economic 
doctrines,  he  brought  to  the  task  of  promoting  them  un- 
failing tact,  prompt  courage,  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
foibles  of  his  hearers,  unconquerable  patience  and  persever- 
ance, and  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  sonorous  phrases  and 
rounded  periods.     Nor  was   his    success   confined   to   the 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      121 

House  of  Commons.  As  a  speaker  on  public  platforms,  in 
the  heyday  of  the  ten-pound  householder  and  the  middle- 
class  franchise,  he  was  peculiarly  in  his  element.  He  had 
beyond  most  men  the  art  of  "  making  a  platitude  endurable 
by  making  it  pompous."  He  excelled  in  demonstrating  the 
material  advantages  of  a  moderate  and  cautious  conservatism, 
and  he  could  draw  at  will  and  with  effect  upon  a  prodigious 
fund  of  constitutional  commonplaces.  If  we  measure  the 
merit  of  a  parliamentary  speaker  by  his  practical  influence, 
we  must  allow  that  Peel  was  pre-eminently  great. 

In  the  foremost  rank  of  orators  a  place  must  certainly  be 
assigned  to  O'Connell.  He  was  not  at  his  best  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  His  coarseness,  violence,  and 
cunning  were  seen  to  the  worst  advantage  in  what  was  still 
an  assemblage  of  gentlemen.  His  powers  of  ridicule, 
sarcasm,  and  invective,  his  dramatic  and  sensational  pre- 
dilections, required  another  scene  for  their  effective  display. 
But  few  men  have  ever  been  so  richly  endowed  by  Nature 
with  the  original,  the  incommunicable,  the  inspired  qualifica- 
tions which  go  to  make  an  orator.  He  was  magnificently 
built,  and  blessed  with  a  voice  which,  by  all  contemporary 
testimony,  was  one  of  the  most  thrilling,  flexible,  and 
melodious  that  ever  vibrated  through  a  popular  assembly. 
"  From  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe  "  he  flew  without 
delay  or  difficulty.  His  wit  gave  point  to  the  most  irrelevant 
personalities,  and  cogency  to  the  most  illogical  syllogisms. 
The  most  daring  perversions  of  truth  and  justice  were 
driven  home  by  appeals  to  the  emotions  which  the  coldest 
natures  could  scarcely  withstand ;  '*  the  passions  of  his 
audience  were  playthings  in  his  hand."  Lord  Lytton  thus 
described  him  : — 

"  Once  to  my  sight  the  giant  thus  was  given  : 
Walled  by  wide  air,  and  roofed  by  boundless  heaven, 
Beneath  his  feet  the  human  ocean  lay, 
And  wave  on  wave  flowed  into  space  away. 


122      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Methought  no  clarion  could  have  sent  its  sound 

Even  to  the  centre  of  the  hosts  around  ; 

But,  as  I  thought,  rose  the  sonorous  swell, 

As  from  some  church  tower  swings  the  silvery  bell. 

Aloft  and  qlear,  from  airy  tide  to  tide 

It  glided,  easy  as  a  bird  may  glide  ; 

To  the  last  verge  of  that  vast  audience  sent, 

It  played  with  each  wild  passion  as  it  went  ; 

Now  stirred  the  uproar,  now  the  murmur  stilled. 

And  sobs  or  laughter  answered  as  it  willed. 

Then  did  I  know  what  spells  of  infinite  choice, 

To  rouse  or  lull,  hath  the  sweet  human  voice  ; 

Then  did  I  seem  to  seize  the  sudden  clue 

To  that  grand  troublous  Life  Antique — to  view, 

Under  the  rockstand  of  Demosthenes, 

Mutable  Athens  heave  her  noisy  seas." 

A  remarkable  contrast,  as  far  as  outward  characteristics 
went,  was  offered  by  the  other  great  orator  of  the  same  time. 
Sheil  was  very  small,  and  of  mean  presence ;  with  a  singu- 
larly fidgety  manner,  a  shrill  voice,  and  a  delivery  unin- 
telligibly rapid.  But  in  sheer  beauty  of  elaborated  diction 
not  O'Connell  nor  any  one  else  could  surpass  him.  There 
are  few  finer  speeches  in  the  language  than  that  in  which 
he  took  Lord  Lyndhurst  to  task  for  applying  the  term 
"  aliens  "  to  the  Irish  in  a  speech  on  municipal  reform  : — 

"  Aliens  !  Good  God  !  was  Arthur  Duke  of  Wellington  in 
the  House  of  Lords,  and  did  he  not  start  up  and  exclaim, 
*  Hold !  I  have  seen  the  aliens  do  their  duty '  ?  .  .  .  I 
appeal  to  the  gallant  soldier  before  me,  from  whose  opinions 
I  differ,  but  who  bears,  I  know,  a  generous  heart  in  an 
intrepid  bosom — tell  me,  for  you  needs  must  remember, 
on  that  day  when  the  destinies  of  mankind  were  trembling 
in  the  balance,  while  death  fell  in  showers — tell  me  if  for 
an  instant,  when  to  hesitate  for  an  instant  was  to  be  lost, 
the  '  aliens '  blenched.  ...  On  the  field  of  Waterloo  the 
blood  of  England,  of  Scotland,  and  of  Ireland  flowed  in  the 
same  stream  and  drenched  the  same  field.  When  the  chill 
morning  dawned  their  dead  lay  cold  and  stark  together  ;  in 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      123 

the  same  deep  pit  their  bodies  were  deposited ;  the  green 
corn  of  spring  is  now  breaking  from  their  commingled 
dust ;  the  dew  falls  from  heaven  upon  this  union  in  the 
grave.  Partakers  in  every  peril,  in  the  glory  shall  we  not 
be  permitted  to  participate  ?  And  shall  we  be  told  as  a 
requital  that  we  are  'aliens'  from  the  noble  country  for 
whose  salvation  our  life-blood  was  poured  out  ?  " 

By  the  time  which  we  are  now  considering  there  had 
risen  to  eminence  a  man  who,  if  he  could  not  be  ranked 
with  the  great  orators  of  the  beginning  of  the  century,  yet 
inherited  their  best  traditions  and  came  very  near  to  rival- 
ling their  fame.  I  refer  to  the  great  Lord  Derby.  His 
eloquence  was  of  the  most  impetuous  kind,  corresponding 
to  the  sensitive  fierceness  of  the  man,  and  had  gained  for 
him  the  nickname  of  "The  Rupert  of  Debate."  Lord 
Beaconsfield,  speaking  in  the  last  year  of  his  life  to  Mr 
Matthew  Arnold,  said  that  the  task  of  carrying  Mr  Forster's 
Coercion  Bill  of  1881  through  the  House  of  Commons 
"needed  such  a  man  as  Lord  Derby  was  in  his  youth — a 
man  full  of  nerve,  dash,  fire,  and  resource,  who  carried  the 
House  irresistibly  along  with  him  " — no  mean  tribute  from 
a  consummate  judge.  Among  Lord  Derby's  ancillary  quali- 
fications were  his  musical  voice,  his  fine  English  style,  and 
his  facility  in  apt  and  novel  quotation,  as  when  he  applied 
Meg  Merrilies's  threnody  over  the  ruins  of  Derncleugh  to 
the  destruction  of  the  Irish  Church  Establishment.  I  turn 
to  Lord  Lytton  again  for  a  description  : — 

"One  after  one,  the  Lords  of  Time  advance  ; 
Here  Stanley  meets — how  Stanley  scorns  ! — the  glance. 
The  brilliant  chief,  irregularly  great, 
Frank,  haughty,  rash,  the  Rupert  of  Debate ; 
Nor  gout  nor  toil  his  freshness  can  destroy, 
And  time  still  leaves  all  Eton  in  the  boy. 
First  in  the  class,  and  keenest  in  the  ring, 
He  saps  like  Gladstone,  and  he  fights  like  Spring  ! 
Yet  who  not  listens,  with  delighted  smile, 
To  the  pure  Saxon  of  that  silver  style  ; 


124      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

In  the  clear  style  a  heart  as  clear  is  seen, 
Prompt  to  the  rash,  revolting  from  the  mean." 

I  turn  now  to  Lord  Derby's  most  eminent  rival — Lord 
Russell.  Writing  in  1844,  Lord  Beaconsfield  thus  described 
him  : — '*  He  is  not  a  natural  orator,  and  labours  under 
physical  deficiencies  which  even  a  Demosthenic  impulse 
could  scarcely  overcome.  But  he  is  experienced  in  debate, 
quick  in  reply,  fertile  in  resource,  takes  large  views,  and 
frequently  compensates  for  a  dry  and  hesitating  manner  by 
the  expression  of  those  noble  truths  that  flash  across  the 
fancy  and  rise  spontaneously  to  the  lip  of  men  of  poetic 
temperament  when  addressing  popular  assemblies."  Twenty 
years  earlier  Moore  had  described  Lord  John  Russell's  public 
speaking  in  a  peculiarly  happy  image  : — 

"An  eloquence,  not  like  those  rills  from  a  height 
Which  sparkle  and  foam  and  in  vapour  are  o'er  ; 
But  a  current  that  works  out  its  way  into  light 

Through  the  filtering  recesses  of  thought  and  of  lore." 

Cobden,  when  they  were  opposed  to  one  another  in  the 
earlier  days  of  the  struggle  for  Free  Trade,  described  him 
as  "a  cunning  little  fox,"  and  avowed  that  he  dreaded  his 
dexterity  in  parliamentary  debate  more  than  that  of  any 
other  opponent. 

In  1834  Lord  John  made  his  memorable  declaration  in 
favour  of  a  liberal  policy  with  reference  to  the  Irish  Church 
Establishment,  and,  in  his  own  words,  "  The  speech  made 
a  great  impression ;  the  cheering  was  loud  and  general ; 
and  Stanley  expressed  his  sense  of  it  in  a  well-known  note 
to  Sir  James  Graham:  'Johnny  has  upset  the  coach.'" 
The  phrase  was  perpetuated  by  Lord  Lytton,  to  whom  I 
must  go  once  again  for  a  perfectly  apt  description  of  the 
Whig  leader,  both  in  his  defects  of  manner  and  in  his 
essential  greatness : — 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      125 

"Next  cool,  and  all  unconscious  of  reproach, 
Comes  the  calm  Johnny  who  "  upset  the  coach  " — 
How  formed  to  lead,  if  not  too  proud  to  please  ! 
His  fame  would  fire  you,  but  his  manners  freeze ; 
Like  or  dislike,  he  does  not  care  a  jot  ; 
He  wants  your  vote,  but  your  affections  not. 
Yet  human  hearts  need  sun  as  well  as  oats  ; 
So  cold  a  climate  plays  the  deuce  with  votes. 
But  see  our  hero  when  the  steam  is  on, 
And  languid  Johnny  glows  to  Glorious  John  ; 
When  Hampden's  thought,  by  Falkland's  muses  drest, 
Lights  the  pale  cheek  and  swells  the  generous  breast  ; 
When  the  pent  heat  expands  the  quickening  soul, 
And  foremost  in  the  race  the  wheels  of  genius  roll." 

As  the  general  idea  of  these  chapters  has  been  a  con- 
catenation of  Links  with  the  Past,  I  must  say  a  word  about 
Lord  Palmerston,  who  was  born  in  1784,  entered  Parliament 
in  1807,  and  was  still  leading  the  House  of  Commons  when 
I  first  attended  its  debates.  A  man  who,  when  turned 
seventy,  could  speak  from  the  ''  dusk  of  a  summer  evening 
to  the  dawn  of  a  summer  morning "  in  defence  of  his 
foreign  policy,  and  carry  the  vindication  of  it  by  a  majority 
of  46,  was  certainly  no  common  performer  on  the  parlia- 
mentary stage ;  and  yet  Lord  Palmerston  had  very  slender 
claims  to  the  title  of  an  orator.  His  style  was  not  only 
devoid  of  ornament  and  rhetorical  device,  but  it  was  slip- 
shod and  untidy  in  the  last  degree.  He  eked  out  his 
sentences  with  "  hum  "  and  "  hah  ; "  he  cleared  his  throat, 
and  flourished  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  sucked  his 
orange;  he  rounded  his  periods  with  "you  know  what  I 
mean"  and  "all  that  kind  of  thing,"  and  seemed  actually 
to  revel  in  an  anti-climax — "  I  think  the  hon.  member's 
proposal  an  outrageous  violation  of  constitutional  propriety, 
a  daring  departure  from  traditional  policy,  and,  in  short,  a 
great  mistake."  It  taxed  all  the  skill  of  the  reporters' 
gallery  to  trim  his  speeches  into  decent  form  ;  and  yet  no 
one  was  listened  to  with  keener  interest,  no  one  was  so 
much  dreaded  as  an  opponent,  and  no  one  ever  approached 


126      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

him  in  the  art  of  putting  a  plausible  face  upon  a  doubtful 
policy  and  making  the  worse  appear  the  better  cause. 
Palmerston's  parliamentary  success  perfectly  illustrates  the 
judgment  of  Demosthenes,  that  "  it  is  not  the  orator's 
language  that  matters,  nor  the  tone  of  his  voice ;  but  what 
matters  is  that  he  should  have  the  same  predilections  as  the 
majority,  and  should  entertain  the  same  likes  and  dislikes 
as  his  country."  If  those  are  the  requisites  of  public 
speaking,  Palmerston  was  supreme. 

The  most  conspicuous  of  all  Links  with  the  Past  in  the 
matter  of  Parliamentary  Oratory  is  obviously  Mr.  Gladstone. 
Like  the  younger  Pitt,  he  had  a  "premature  and  unnatural 
dexterity  in  the  combination  of  words."  He  was  trained 
under  the  immediate  influence  of  Canning,  who  was  his 
father's  friend.  When  he  was  sixteen  his  style  was  already 
formed.  I  quote  from  the  records  of  the  Eton  Debating 
Society  for  1826  : — 

*'  Thus  much,  sir,  I  have  said,  as  conceiving  myself  bound 
in  fairness  not  to  regard  the  names  under  which  men  have 
hidden  their  designs  so  much  as  the  designs  themselves.  I 
am  well  aware  that  my  prejudices  and  my  predilections  have 
long  been  enlisted  on  the  side  of  Toryism — (cheers) — and 
that  in  a  cause  like  this  I  am  not  hkely  to  be  influenced 
unfairly  against  men  bearing  that  name  and  professing  to 
act  on  the  principles  which  I  have  always  been  accustomed 
to  revere.  But  the  good  of  my  country  must  stand  on  a 
higher  ground  than  distinctions  like  these.  In  common 
fairness  and  in  common  candour,  I  feel  myself  compelled 
to  give  my  decisive  verdict  against  the  conduct  of  men 
whose  measures  I  firmly  believe  to  have  been  hostile  to 
British  interests,  destructive  of  British  glory,  and  subversive 
of  the  splendid  and,  I  trust,  lasting  fabric  of  the  British 
Constitution." 

Mr.  Gladstone  entered  Parliament  when  he  was  not  quite 
twenty-three,  at  the  General   Election  of   1832,  and  it  is 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   127 

evident  from  a  perusal  of  his  early  speeches  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  imperfectly  reported  in  the  third  person,  and 
from  contemporary  evidence,  that,  when  due  allowance  is 
made  for  growth  and  development,  his  manner  of  oratory 
was'the  same  as  it  was  in  after-life.  He  was  only  too  fluent. 
His  style  was  copious,  redundant,  and  involved,  and  his 
speeches  were  garnished,  after  the  manner  of  his  time,  with 
Horatian  and  Virgilian  tags.  His  voice  was  always  clear, 
flexible,  and  musical,  though  his  utterance  was  marked  by 
a  Lancastrian  "  burr."  His  gesture  was  varied  and  animated, 
though  not  violent.  He  turned  his  face  and  body  from  side 
to  side,  and  often  wheeled  right  round  to  face  his  own  party 
as  he  appealed  for  their  cheers. 

"  Did  you  ever  feel  nervous  in  public  speaking  ?  "  asked  the 
late  Lord  Coleridge. 

"  In  opening  a  subject,  often,"  answered  Mr.  Gladstone  ; 
"in  reply,  never." 

It  was  a  characteristic  saying,  for,  in  truth,  he  was  a  born 
debater,  never  so  happy  as  when  coping  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment  with  the  arguments  and  appeals  which  an  opponent 
had  spent  perhaps  days  in  elaborating  beforehand.  Again, 
in  the  art  of  elucidating  figures  he  was  unequalled.  He 
was  the  first  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  who  ever  made 
the  Budget  interesting.  "  He  talked  shop,"  it  was  said, 
"like  a  tenth  muse."  He  could  apply  all  the  resources  of 
a  glowing  rhetoric  to  the  most  prosaic  questions  of  cost  and 
profit ;  could  make  beer  romantic  and  sugar  serious.  He 
could  sweep  the  widest  horizon  of  the  financial  future,  and 
yet  stoop  to  bestow  the  minutest  attention  on  the  microcosm 
of  penny  stamps  and  the  monetary  merits  of  half-farthings. 
And  yet,  extraordinary  as  were  these  feats  of  intellectual 
athletics,  Mr.  Gladstone's  unapproached  supremacy  as  an 
orator  was  not  really  seen  until  he  touched  the  moral 
elements  involved  in  some  great  political  issue.  Then, 
indeed,  he  spoke  like  a  prophet  and  a  man  inspired.     His 


128     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

whole  physical  formation  seemed  to  become  "  fusile  "  with 
the  fire  of  his  ethical  passion,  and  his  eloquence  flowed 
like  a  stream  of  molten  lava,  carrying  all  before  it  in  its 
irresistible  rush,  glorious  as  well  as  terrible,  and  fertilizing 
while  it  subdued.  Mr.  Gladstone's  departure  from  the  House 
of  Commons  closed  a  splendid  tradition,  and  Parliamentary 
Oratory  as  our  fathers  understood  it  may  now  be  reckoned 
among  the  lost  arts. 


XIII. 
CONVERSATION. 

WE  have  agreed  that  Parliamentary  Oratory,  as  our 
fathers  understood  that  phrase,  is  a  lost  art.  Must 
Conversation  be  included  in  the  same  category?  To 
answer  with  positiveness  is  difficult ;  but  this  much  may 
be  readily  conceded — that  a  belief  in  the  decadence  of 
conversation  is  natural  to  those  who  have  specially  cultivated 
Links  with  the  Past ;  who  grew  up  in  the  traditions  of 
Luttrell  and  Mackintosh,  and  Lord  Alvanley  and  Samuel 
Rogers ;  who  have  felt  Sydney  Smith's  irresistible  fun,  and 
known  the  overwhelming  fullness  of  Lord  Macaulay.  It  is 
not  unreasonable  even  in  that  later  generation  which  can  still 
recall  the  frank  but  high-bred  gaiety  of  the  great  Lord 
Derby,  the  rollicking  good-humour  and  animal  spirits  of 
Bishop  Wilberforce,  the  saturnine  epigrams  of  Lord  Beacons- 
field,  the  versatility  and  choice  diction  of  Lord  Houghton, 
the  many-sided  yet  concentrated  malice  which  supplied  the 
stock  in  trade  of  Abraham  Hayward.  More  recent  losses 
have  been  heavier  still.  Just  ten  years  ago*  died  Mr. 
Matthew  Arnold,  who  combined  in  singular  harmony  the 
various  elements  which  go  to  make  good  conversation — 
urbanity,  liveliness,  quick  sympathy,  keen  interest  in  the 
world's  works  and  ways,  the  happiest  choice  of  words,  and 
a  natural  and  never-failing   humour,   as   genial   as   it   was 

♦  April  IS.  1888. 


130      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

pungent.  It  was  his  characteristic  glory  that  he  knew  how 
to  be  a  man  of  the  world  without  being  frivolous,  and  a 
man  of  letters  without  being  pedantic. 

Eight  years  ago  *  I  was  asked  to  discuss  the  Art  of  Con- 
versation in  one  of  the  monthly  reviews,  and  I  could  then 
illustrate  it  by  such  living  instances  as  Lord  Granville,  Sir 
Robert  Peel,  Lord  Coleridge,  Lord  Bowen,  Mr.  Browning, 
and  Mr.  Lowell.  Each  of  those  distinguished  men  had  a 
conversational  gift  which  was  peculiarly  his  own.  Each 
talked  like  himself,  and  like  no  one  else ;  each  made  his 
distinct  and  individual  contribution  to  the  social  agreeable- 
ness  of  London.  If  in  now  endeavouring  to  recall  their 
characteristic  gifts  I  use  words  which  I  have  used  before, 
my  excuse  must  be  that*  the  contemporary  record  of  a 
personal  impression  cannot  with  advantage  be  retouched 
after  the  lapse  of  years. 

Lord  Granville's  most  notable  quality  was  a  humorous 
urbanity.  As  a  story-teller  he  was  unsurpassed.  He  had 
been  everywhere  and  had  known  every  one.  He  was  quick 
to  seize  a  point,  and  extraordinarily  apt  in  anecdote  and 
illustration.  His  fine  taste  appreciated  whatever  was  best 
in  life,  in  conversation,  in  literature,  even  when  (as  in  his 
selection  of  the  preface  to  the  Sanctus  as  his  favourite  piece 
of  English  prose)  it  was  gathered  from  fields  in  which  he 
had  not  habitually  roamed.  A  man  whose  career  had  been 
so  full  of  vivid  and  varied  interests  must  often  have  felt 
acutely  bored  by  the  trivial  round  of  social  conversation. 
But  if  he  could  not  rise — who  can  ? — to  the  apostolic  virtue 
of  suffering  bores  gladly,  at  any  rate  he  endured  their 
onslaughts  as  unflinchingly  as  he  stood  the  gout.  A  smiling 
countenance  and  an  unfailing  courtesy  concealed  the 
torment  which  was  none  the  less  keen  because  it  was  un- 
expressed. He  could  always  feel,  or  at  least  could  show, 
a  gracious  interest  in  what  interested  his  company,  and  he 
•  Written  in  1897. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      131 

possessed  in  supreme  perfection  the  happy  knack  of  putting 
those  to  whom  he  spoke  in  good  conceit  with  themselves. 

The  late  Sir  Robert  Peel  was,  both  mentally  and 
physically,  one  of  the  most  picturesque  figures  in  society. 
Alike  in  his  character  and  in  his  aspect  the  Creole  blood 
which  he  had  inherited  from  his  maternal  descent  triumphed 
over  the  robust  and  serviceable  commonplace  which  was 
the  characteristic  quality  of  the  Peels.  Lord  Beaconsfield 
described  "  a  still  gallant  figure,  scrupulously  attired ;  a 
blue  frock  coat,  with  a  ribboned  button-hole ;  a  well-turned 
boot;  hat  a  little  too  hidalgoish,  but  quite  new.  There 
was  something  respectable  and  substantial  about  him,  not- 
withstanding his  moustaches  and  a  carriage  too  debonair 
for  his  years."  The  description,  for  whomsoever  intended, 
is  a  lifelike  portrait  of  Sir  Robert  Peel.  His  most  salient 
feature  as  a  talker  was  his  lovely  voice — deep,  flexible, 
melodious.  Mr.  Gladstone — no  mean  judge  of  such  matters 
— pronounced  it  the  finest  organ  he  ever  heard  in 
Parliament;  but  with  all  due  submission  to  so  high  an 
authority,  I  should  have  said  that  it  was  a  voice  better 
adapted  to  the  drawing-room  than  to  the  House  of  Commons. 
In  a  large  space  a  higher  note  and  a  clearer  tone  tell  better, 
but  in  the  close  quarters  of  social  intercourse  one  appreciates 
the  sympathetic  qualities  of  a  rich  baritone.  And  Sir 
Robert's  voice,  admirable  in  itself,  was  the  vehicle  of  con- 
versation quite  worthy  of  it.  He  could  talk  of  art  and 
sport,  and  politics  and  books ;  he  had  a  great  memory, 
varied  information,  lively  interest  in  the  world  and  its 
doings,  and  a  full-bodied  humour  which  recalled  the  social 
tone  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

His  vein  of  personal  raillery  was  rather  robust  than 
refined.  Nothing  has  been  heard  in  our  time  quite  like 
his  criticism  of  Sir  Edgar  Boehm  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
or  his  joke  about  Mr.  Justice  Chitty  at  the  election  for 
Oxford  in  1880.     But  his  humour  (to  quote  his  own  words) 


132      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS 

"  had  an  English  ring,"  and  much  must  be  pardoned  to  a 
man  who,  in  this  portentous  age  of  reticence  and  pose,  was 
wholly  free  from  solemnity,  and  when  he  heard  or  saw 
what  was  ludicrous  was  not  afraid  to  laugh  at  it.  Sir 
Robert  Peel  was  an  excellent  hand  at  what  our  fathers 
called  banter  and  we  call  chaff.  A  prig  or  a  pedant  was 
his  favourite  butt,  and  the  performance  was  rendered  all 
the  more  effective  by  his  elaborate  assumption  of  the 
gratid  seigneur's  manner.  The  victim  was  dimly  conscious 
that  he  was  being  laughed  at,  but  comically  uncertain  about 
the  best  means  of  reprisal.  Sydney  Smith  described  Sir 
James  Mackintosh  as  "  abating  and  dissolving  pompous 
gentlemen  with  the  most  successful  ridicule."  Whoever 
performs  that  process  is  a  social  benefactor,  and  the 
greatest  master  of  it  whom  I  have  ever  known  was  Sir 
Robert  Peel. 

The  Judges  live  so  entirely  in  their  own  narrow  and 
rather  technical  circle  that  their  social  abilities  are  lost  to 
the  world.  It  is  a  pity,  for  several  of  them  are  men  well 
fitted  by  their  talents  and  accomplishments  to  take  a 
leading  part  in  society.  The  late  Lord  Coleridge  was  pre- 
eminently a  case  in  point.  Personally,  I  had  an  almost 
fanatical  admiration  for  his  genius,  and  in  many  of  the 
qualities  which  make  an  agreeable  talker  he  was  unsurpassed. 
Every  one  who  ever  heard  him  at  the  Bar  or  on  the  Bench 
must  recall  that  silvery  voice  and  that  perfect  elocution 
which  prompted  a  competent  judge  of  such  matters  to  say  : 
"  I  should  enjoy  listening  to  Coleridge  even  if  he  only  read 
out  a  page  of  Bradshaw."  To  these  gifts  were  added  an 
immense  store  of  varied  knowledge,  a  genuine  enthusiasm 
for  whatever  is  beautiful  in  literature  or  art,  an  inexhaustible 
copiousness  of  anecdote,  and  a  happy  knack  of  exact  yet 
not  offensive  mimicry.  It  is  always  pleasant  to  see  a  man 
in  great  station,  who,  in  the  intercourse  of  society,  is 
perfectly  untrammelled   by  pomp  and   form,  can  make  a 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.       133 

joke  and  enjoy  it,  and  is  not  too  cautious  to  garnish  his 
conversation  with  personalities  or  to  season  it  with  sarcasm. 
Perhaps  Lord  Coleridge's  gibes  were  a  little  out  of  place 
on  "  The  Royal  Bench  of  British  Themis,"  but  at  a  dinner- 
table  they  were  delightful,  and  they  derived  a  double  zest 
from  the  exquisite  precision  and  finish  of  the  English  in 
which  they  were  conveyed. 

Another  judge  who  excelled  in  conversation  was  the  late 
Lord  Bowen.  Those  who  knew  him  intimately  would  say 
that  he  was  the  best  talker  in  London.  In  spite  of  the 
burden  of  learning  which  he  carried  and  his  marvellous 
rapidity  and  grasp  of  mind,  his  social  demeanour  was  quiet 
and  unobtrusive  almost  to  the  point  of  affectation.  His 
manner  was  singularly  suave  and  winning,  and  his  smile 
resembled  that  of  the  much-quoted  Chinaman  who  played 
but  did  not  understand  the  game  of  euchre.  This  singular 
gentleness  of  speech  gave  a  special  piquancy  to  his  keen 
and  delicate  satire,  his  readiness  in  repartee,  and  his  subtle 
irony.  No  one  ever  met  Lord  Bowen  without  wishing  to 
meet  him  again ;  no  one  ever  made  his  acquaintance  with- 
out desiring  his  friendship.  Sir  Henry  Cunningham's 
memoir  of  him  only  illustrated  afresh  the  impossibility  of 
transplanting  to  the  printed  page  the  rarefied  humour  of 
so  delicate  a  spirit.  Let  me  make  just  one  attempt.  Of 
a  brother  judge  he  said :  "  To  go  to  the  Court  of  Appeal 

with  a  judgment  of 's  in  your  favour,  is  like  going  to 

sea  on  a  Friday.  It  is  not  necessarily  fatal ;  but  one  would 
rather  it  had  not  happened.^''  Had  Bowen  been  more 
widely  known,  the  traditions  of  his  table-talk  would  probably 
have  taken  their  place  with  the  best  recollections  of  English 
conversation.  His  admirers  can  only  regret  that  gifts  so 
rich  and  so  rare  should  have  been  buried  in  judicial  dining- 
rooms  or  squandered  on  the  dismal  orgies  of  the  Cosmo- 
politan Club,  where  dull  men  sit  round  a  meagre  fire,  in  a 
large,  draughty,  and  half-lit  room,  drinking  lemon-squash 


134     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

and  talking  for  talking's  sake — the  most  melancholy  of 
occupations. 

The  society  of  London  between  1870  and  1890  contained 
no  more  striking  or  interesting  figure  than  that  of  Robert 
Browning.  No  one  meeting  him  for  the  first  time  and 
unfurnished  with  a  clue  would  have  guessed  his  vocation. 
He  might  have  been  a  diplomatist,  a  statesman,  a  discoverer, 
or  a  man  of  science.  But  whatever  was  his  calling,  one  felt 
sure  that  it  must  be  something  essentially  practical.  Of 
the  disordered  appearance,  the  unconventional  demeanour, 
the  rapt  and  mystic  air  which  we  assume  to  be  characteristic 
of  the  poet  he  had  absolutely  none.  And  his  conversation 
corresponded  to  his  appearance.  It  abounded  in  vigour, 
in  fire,  in  vivacity.  It  was  genuinely  interesting,  and  often 
strikingly  eloquent,  yet  all  the  time  it  was  entirely  free 
from  mystery,  vagueness,  and  jargon.  It  was  the  crisp, 
emphatic,  and  powerful  discourse  of  a  man  of  the  world 
who  was  incomparably  better  informed  than  the  mass  of 
his  congeners.  Mr.  Browning  was  the  readiest,  the  blithest, 
and  the  most  forcible  of  talkers,  and  when  he  dealt  in 
criticism  the  edge  of  his  sword  was  mercilessly  whetted 
against  pretension  and  vanity.  The  inflection  of  his  voice, 
the  flash  of  his  eye,  the  pose  of  his  head,  the  action  of  his 
hand,  all  lent  their  special  emphasis  to  the  condemnation. 
"  I  like  religion  to  be  treated  seriously,"  he  exclaimed  with 
reference  to  a  theological  novel  of  great  renown,  "and  I 
don't  want  to  know  what  this  curate  or  that  curate  thought 
about  it.  No,  I  don't.''^  Surely  the  secret  thoughts  of 
many  hearts  found  utterance  in  that  emphatic  cry. 

Here  I  must  venture  to  insert  a  personal  reminiscence. 
Mr.  Browning  had  honoured  me  with  his  company  at  dinner, 
and  an  unduly  fervent  admirer  had  button-holed  him 
throughout  a  long  evening,  plying  him  with  questions  about 
what  he  meant  by  this  line,  and  whom  he  intended  by  that 
character.     It  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  stand, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.  .    135 

and  at  last  the  master  extricated  himself  from  the  grasp  of 
the  disciple,  exclaiming  with  the  most  airy  grace,  "But, 
my  dear  fellow,  this  is  too  bad.  /am  monopolizing _y<9«/." 
Now  and  then,  at  rather  rare  intervals,  when  time  and  place, 
and  company  and  surroundings,  were  altogether  suitable, 
Mr.  Browning  would  consent  to  appear  in  his  true  character 
and  to  dehght  his  hearers  by  speaking  of  his  art.  Then 
the  higher  and  rarer  qualities  of  his  genius  came  into  play. 
He  kindled  with  responsive  fire  at  a  beautiful  thought,  and 
burned  with  contagious  enthusiasm  over  a  phrase  which 
struck  his  fancy.  Yet  all  the  while  the  poetic  rapture  was 
underlain  by  a  groundwork  of  robust  sense.  Rant,  and 
gush,  and  affectation  were  abhorrent  to  his  nature,  and 
even  in  his  grandest  flights  of  fancy  he  was  always  intelli- 
gible. 

The  late  Mr.  Lowell  must  certainly  be  reckoned  among 
the  famous  talkers  of  his  time.  During  the  years  that  he 
represented  the  United  States  in  London  his  trim  sentences, 
his  airy  omniscience,  his  minute  and  circumstantial  way  of 
laying  down  literary  law,  were  the  inevitable  ornaments  of 
serious  dinners  and  cultured  tea-tables.  My  first  encounter 
with  Mr.  Lowell  took  place  many  years  before  he  entered 
on  his  diplomatic  career.  It  was  in  1872,  when  I  chanced 
to  meet  him  in  a  company  of  tourists  at  Durham  Castle. 
Though  I  was  a  devotee  of  the  Biglow  Papers,  I  did  not 
know  their  distinguished  author  even  by  sight ;  and  I  was 
intensely  amused  by  the  air  of  easy  mastery,  the  calm  and 
almost  fatherly  patronage,  with  which  this  cultivated 
American  overrode  the  indignant  showwoman ;  pointed 
out,  for  the  general  benefit  of  the  admiring  tourists,  the 
gaps  and  lapses  in  her  artistic,  architectural,  and  archaeologi- 
cal knowledge ;  and  made  mullion  and  portcullis,  and 
armour  and  tapestry  the  pegs  for  a  series  of  neat  discourses 
on  mediaeval  history,  domestic  decoration,  and  the  science 
of  fortification. 


136      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Which  things  are  an  allegory.  We,  as  a  nation,  take 
this  calm  assurance  of  foreigners  at  its  own  valuation.  We 
consent  to  be  told  that  we  do  not  know  our  own  poets, 
cannqt  pronounce  our  own  language,  and  have  no  well- 
educated  women.  But  after  a  time  this  process  palls. 
We  question  the  divine  right  of  the  superiority  thus  im- 
posed on  us.  We  ask  on  what  foundation  these  high 
claims  rest,  and  we  discover  all  at  once  that  we  have  paid 
a  great  deal  of  deference  where  very  little  was  deserved. 
By  processes  such  as  these  I  came  to  find,  in  years  long 
subsequent  to  the  encounter  at  Durham,  that  Mr.  Lowell, 
though  an  accomplished  politician,  a  brilliant  writer,  and 
an  admirable  after-dinner  speaker,  was,  conversationally 
considered,  an  inaccurate  man  with  an  accurate  manner. 
But,  after  all,  inaccuracy  is  by  no  means  the  worst  of 
conversational  faults,  and  when  he  was  in  the  vein  Mr. 
Lowell  could  be  exceedingly  good  company.  He  liked 
talking,  and  talked  not  only  much  but  very  well.  He  had 
a  genuine  vein  of  wit  and  great  dexterity  in  phrase-making ; 
and  on  due  occasion  would  produce  from  the  rich  stores 
of  his  own  experience  some  of  the  most  vivid  and  striking 
incidents,  both  civil  and  military,  of  that  tremendous 
struggle  for  human  freedom  with  which  bis  name  and 
fame  must  be  always  and  most  honourably  associated. 


XIV. 

CONYERSATIO'N— con  finue^. 

"DRAVE  men  have  lived  since  as  well  as  before 
-*-^  Agamemnon,  and  those  who  know  the  present  society 
of  London  may  not  unreasonably  ask  whether,  even  grant- 
ing the  heavy  losses  which  I  enumerated  in  my  last 
chapter,  the  Art  of  Conversation  is  really  extinct.  Are 
the  talkers  of  to-day  in  truth  so  immeasurably  inferior  to 
the  great  men  who  preceded  them  ?  Before  we  can  answer 
these  questions,  even  tentatively,  we  must  try  to  define 
our  idea  of  good  conversation,  and  this  can  best  be  done 
by  rigidly  ruling  out  what  is  bad.  To  begin  with,  all 
affectation,  unreality,  and  straining  after  effect  are  intoler- 
able ;  scarcely  less  so  are  rhetoric,  declamation,  and  what- 
ever tends  towards  speech-making.  Mimicry  is  a  very 
dangerous  trick,  rare  in  perfection,  and  contemptible  when 
imperfect.  An  apt  story  well  told  is  delicious,  but  there 
was  sound  philosophy  in  Mr.  Pinto's  view  that  "when  a 
man  fell  into  his  anecdotage  it  was  a  sign  for  him  to  retire 
from  the  world."  One  touch  of  ill-nature  makes  the  whole 
world  kin,  and  a  spice  of  malice  tickles  the  intellectual 
palate ;  but  a  conversation  which  is  mainly  malicious  is 
entirely  dull.  Constant  joking  is  a  weariness  to  the  flesh ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  a  sustained  seriousness  of  discourse 
is  fatally  apt  to  recall  the  conversation  between  the  Hon. 
Elijah  Pogram  and  the  Three  Literary  Ladies — ^"How 
Pogram  got  out  of  his  depth  instantly,  and  how  the  Three 

6 


138      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

L.L.'s  were  never  in  theirs,  is  a  piece  of  history  not  worth 
recording.  Suffice  it  that,  being  all  four  out  of  their  depths 
and  all  unable  to  swim,  they  splashed  up  words  in  all 
directions,  and  floundered  about  famously.  On  the  whole, 
it  was  considered  to  have  been  the  severest  mental  exercise 
ever  heard  in  the  National  Hotel,  and  the  whole  company 
observed  that  their  heads  ached  with  the  effort — as  well 
they  might." 

A  talker  who  monopolizes  the  conversation  is  by  common 
consent  insufferable,  and  a  man  who  regulates  his  choice 
of  topics  by  reference  to  what  interests  not  his  hearers  but 
himself  has  yet  to  learn  the  alphabet  of  the  art.  Conversa- 
tion is  like  lawn-tennis,  and  requires  alacrity  in  return  at 
least  as  much  as  vigour  in  service.  A  happy  phrase,  an 
unexpected  collocation  of  words,  a  habitual  precision  in 
the  choice  of  terms,  are  rare  and  shining  ornaments  of 
conversation,  but  they  do  not  for  an  instant  supply  the 
place  of  lively  and  interesting  matter,  and  an  excessive 
care  for  them  is  apt  to  tell  unfavourably  on  the  substance 
of  discourse. 

"I  might  as  well  attempt  to  gather  up  the  foam  of  the 
sea  as  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  extraordinary  language  in 
which  he  clothed  his  description.  There  were  at  least 
five  words  in  every  sentence  that  must  have  been  very 
much  astonished  at  the  use  they  were  put  to,  and  yet  no 
others  apparently  could  so  well  have  expressed  his  idea. 
He  talked  like  a  racehorse  approaching  the  winning-post — 
every  muscle  in  action,  and  the  utmost  energy  of  expression 
flung  out  into  every  burst."  This  is  a  contemporary 
description  of  Lord  Beacbnsfield's  conversation  in  those 
distant  days  when,  as  a  young  man  about  town,  he  was 
talking  and  dressing  his  way  into  social  fame.  Though 
written  in  admiration,  it  seems  to  me  to  describe  the  most 
intolerable  performance  that  could  ever  have  afflicted 
society.     He  talked  like  a  racehorse  approaching  the  winning- 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      139 

post.  Could  the  wit  of  man  devise  a  more  appalling 
image  ? 

Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  once  said  to  me :  "  People  think 
that  I  can  teach  them  style.  What  stuff  it  all  is  !  Have 
something  to  say,  and  say  it  as  clearly  as  you  can.  That 
is  the  only  secret  of  style."  This  dictum  applies,  I  think, 
at  least  as  well  to  conversation  as  to  literature.  The  one 
thing  needful  is  to  have  something  to  say.  The  way  of 
saying  it  may  best  be  left  to  take  care  of  itself.  A  young 
man  about  town  once  remarked  to  me,  in  the  tone  of  one 
who  utters  an  accepted  truism :  "It  is  so  much  more 
interesting  to  talk  about  people  than  things."  The  senti- 
ment was  highly  characteristic  of  the  mental  calibre  and 
associations  of  the  speaker ;  and  certainly  the  habitual 
talk — for  it  is  not  conversation — of  that  section  of  society 
which  calls  itself  "  smart "  seems  to  touch  the  lowest  depth 
of  spiteful  and  sordid  dullness.  But  still,  when  the 
mischiefs  of  habitual  personality  have  been  admitted  to 
the  uttermost,  there  remains  something  to  be  said  on  the 
other  side.  We  are  not  inhabitants  of  Jupiter  or  Saturn, 
but  human  beings  to  whom  nothing  that  is  human  is 
wholly  alien.  And  if  in  the  pursuit  of  high  abstractions 
and  improving  themes  we  imitate  too  closely  Wordsworth's 
avoidance  of  Personal  Talk,  our  dinner-table  will  run  much 
risk  of  becoming  as  dull  as  that  poet's  own  fireside. 

Granting,  then,  that  to  have  something  to  say  which  is 
worth  hearing  is  the  substance  of  good  conversation,  we 
must  reckon  among  its  accidents  and  ornaments  a  manner 
which  knows  how  to  be  easy  and  free  without  being  free-and- 
easy  ;  a  habitual  deference  to  the  tastes  and  even  the 
prejudices  of  other  people ;  a  hearty  desire  to  be,  or  at  least 
to  seem,  interested  in  their  concerns ;  and  a  constant 
recollection  that  even  the  most  patient  hearers  may  some- 
times wish  to  be  speakers.  Above  all  else,  the  agreeable 
talker  cultivates  gentleness  and  delicacy  of  speech,  avoids 


140     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

aggressive  and  overwhelming  displays,  and  remembers  the 
tortured  cry  of  the  neurotic  bard  : — 

"  Vociferated  logic  kills  me  quite  ; 
A  noisy  man  is  always  in  the  right — 
I  twirl  my  thumbs,  fall  back  into  my  chair, 
Fix  on  the  wainscot  a  distressful  stare  ; 
And  when  I  hope  his  blunders  all  are  out, 
Reply  discreetly,  '  To  be  sure— no  doubt  !'  " 

If  these,  or  something  like  these,  are  the  attributes  of 
good  conversation,  in  whom  do  we  find  them  best  exempli- 
fied ?  Who  best  understands  the  Art  of  Conversation  ? 
Who,  in  a  word,  are  our  best  talkers  ?  I  hope  that  I  shall 
not  be  considered  ungallant  if  I  say  nothing  about  the  part 
borne  in  conversation  by  ladies.  Really  it  is  a  sacred  awe 
that  makes  me  mute.  London  is  happy  in  possessing  not 
a  few  hostesses,  excellently  accomplished,  and  not  more 
accomplished  than  gracious,  of  whom  it  is  no  flattery  to  say 
that  to  know  them  is  a  liberal  education.  But,  as  Lord 
Beaconsfield  observes  in  a  more  than  usually  grotesque 
passage  of  Lothair,  "We  must  not  profane  the  mysteries 
of  Bona  Dea."  We  will  not  "peep  and  botanize"  on 
sacred  soil,  nor  submit  our  most  refined  delights  to  the 
impertinences  of  critical  analysis. 

In  considering  the  Art  of  Conversation  I  obey  a  natural 
instinct  when  I  think  first  of  Mr.  Charles  Villiers,  M.P. 
His  venerable  age  alone  would  entitle  him  to  this  pre- 
eminence, for  he  was  born  in  1802,  and  was  for  seventy 
years  one  of  the  best  talkers  in  London.  Born  of  a  family 
which  combined  high  rank  with  intellectual  distinction,  his 
parentage  was  a  passport  to  all  that  was  best  in  social  and 
political  life.  It  argues  no  political  bias  to  maintain  that  in 
the  first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century  Toryism  afforded 
its  neophytes  no  educational  opportunities  equal  to  those 
which  a  young  Whig  enjoyed  at  Bowood  and  Panshanger 
and    Holland   House.     There   the  best   traditions   of  the 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      141 

previous  century  were  constantly  reinforced  by  accessions  of 
fresh  intellect.  The  charmed  circle  was  indeed  essentially, 
but  it  was  not  exclusively,  aristocratic ;  genius  held  the  key, 
and  there  was  a  carriere  ouverte  aux  talents. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  society  of  Lord  Lansdowne 
and  Lord  Holland  and  Lord  Melbourne  was  also  the  society 
of  Brougham  and  Mackintosh,  and  Macaulay  and  Sydney 
Smith.  It  presented  every  variety  of  accomplishment  and 
experience  and  social  charm,  and  offered  to  a  man  beginning 
life  the  best  conceivable  education  in  the  art  of  making 
oneself  agreeable.  For  that  art  Mr.  Villiers  had  a  natural 
genius,  and  his  lifelong  association  with  the  Whigs  super- 
added a  technical  training  in  it.  But  this,  though  much, 
was  by  no  means  all.  I  hold  it  to  be  an  axiom  that  a  man 
who  is  only  a  member  of  society  can  never  be  so  agreeable 
as  one  who  is  something  else  as  well.  And  Mr.  Villiers, 
though  "a  man  about  town,"  a  story-teller,  and  a  diner-out 
of  high  renown,  has  had  seventy  years'  experience  of  practical 
business  and  Parliamentary  life.  Thus  the  resources  of  his 
knowledge  have  been  perpetually  enlarged,  and,  learning 
much,  he  has  forgotten  nothing.  The  stores  of  his  memory 
are  full  of  treasures  new  and  old.  He  has  taken  part  in  the 
making  of  history,  and  can  estimate  the  great  men  of 
the  present  day  by  a  comparison  with  the  political 
immortals. 

That  this  comparison  is  not  always  favourable  to  some 
exalted  reputations  of  the  present  hour  is  indeed  sufficiently 
notorious  to  all  who  have  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Villiers's 
acquaintance;  and  nowhere  is  his  mastery  of  the  art  of 
conversation  more  conspicuous  than  in  his  knack  of  imply- 
ing  dislike  and  insinuating  contempt  without  crude  abuse 
or  noisy  denunciation.  He  has  a  delicate  sense  of  fun, 
a  keen  eye  for  incongruities  and  absurdities,  and  that 
genuine  cynicism  which  springs,  not  from  the  poor  desire 
to  be  thought  worldly-wise,  but  from  a  lifelong  acquaintance 


142      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

with  the  foibles  of  political  men.  To  these  gifts  must  be 
added  a  voice  which  age  has  not  robbed  of  its  sympathetic 
qualities,  a  style  of  diction  and  a  habit  of  pronunciation 
which  belong  to  the  eighteenth  century,  and  that  formal  yet 
facile  courtesy  which  no  one  less  than  eighty  years  old 
seems  capable  of  even  imitating. 

I  have  instanced  Mr.  Villiers  as  an  eminent  talker.  I 
now  turn  to  an  eminent  man  who  talks — Mr.  Gladstone.* 
An  absurd  story  has  long  been  current  among  credulous 
people  with  rampant  prejudices  that  Mr.  Gladstone  was 
habitually  uncivil  to  the  Queen.  Now,  it  happens  that 
Mr.  Gladstone  is  the  most  courteous  of  mankind.  His 
courtesy  is  one  of  his  most  engaging  gifts,  and  accounts  in 
no  small  degree  for  his  power  of  attracting  the  regard  of 
young  men  and  undistinguished  people  generally.  To 
all  such  he  is  polite  to  the  point  of  deference,  yet  never 
condescending.  His  manners  to  all  alike — young  and  old, 
rich  and  poor — are  the  ceremonious  manners  of  the  old 
school,  and  his  demeanour  towards  ladies  is  a  model  of 
chivalrous  propriety.  It  would  therefore  have  been  to  the 
last  degree  improbable  that  he  should  make  a  departure 
from  his  usual  habits  in  the  case  of  a  lady  who  was  also  his 
Sovereign.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  story  is  so 
ridiculously  wide  of  the  mark  that  it  deserves  mention  only 
because,  in  itself  false,  it  is  founded  on  a  truth.  "  I,"  said 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  on  a  memorable  occasion,  "  have 
no  small  talk,  and  Peel  has  no  manners."  Mr.  Gladstone 
has  manners  but  no  small  talk.  He  is  so  consimied  by 
zeal  for  great  subjects  that  he  leaves  out  of  account  the 
possibility  that  they  may  not  interest  other  people.  He 
pays  to  every  one,  and  not  least  to  ladies,  the  compliment 
of  assuming  that  they  are  on  his  own  intellectual   level, 

•  This  was  written  before  the  19th  of  May,  1898,  on  which  day  "  the 
world  lost  its  greatest  citizen  ; "  but  it  has  not  been  thought  necessary, 
here  or  elsewhere,  to  change  the  present  into  the  past  tense. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      143 

engrossed  in  the  subjects  which  engross  him,  and  furnished 
with  at  least  as  much  information  as  will  enable  them  to 
follow  and  to  understand  him.  Hence  the  genesis  of  that 
absurd  story  about  his  demeanour  to  the  Queen. 

"  He  speaks  to  Me  as  if  I  was  a  public  meeting,"  is  a 
complaint  which  is  said  to  have  proceeded  from  illustrious 
lips.  That  most  successful  of  all  courtiers,  the  astute  Lord 
Beaconsfield,  used  to  engage  her  Majesty  in  conversation 
about  water-colour  drawing  and  the  third-cousinships  of 
German  princes.  Mr.  Gladstone  harangues  her  about  the 
polity  of  the  Hittites,  or  the  harmony  between  the  Athanasian 
Creed  and  Homer.  The  Queen,  perplexed  and  uncomfort- 
able, tries  to  make  a  digression — addresses  a  remark  to  a 
daughter  or  proffers  biscuit  to  a  begging  terrier.  Mr. 
Gladstone  restrains  himself  with  an  effort  till  the  Princess 
has  answered  or  the  dog  has  sat  down,  and  then  promptly 

resumes  :  "  I  was  about  to  say "     Meanwhile  the  flood 

has  gathered  force  by  delay,  and  when  it  bursts  forth  again 
it  carries  all  before  it. 

No  image  except  that  of  a  flood  can  convey  the  notion 
of  Mr.  Gladstone's  table-talk  on  a  subject  which  interests 
him  keenly — its  rapidity,  its  volume,  its  splash  and  dash,  its 
frequent  beauty,  its  striking  efTects,  the  amount  of  varied 
matter  which  it  brings  with  it,  the  hopelessness  of  trying  to 
withstand  it,  the  unexpectedness  of  its  onrush,  the  subdued 
but  fertilized  condition  of  the  subjected  area  over  which  it 
has  passed.  The  bare  mention  of  a  topic  which  interests 
Mr.  Gladstone  opens  the  floodgates  and  submerges  a  pro- 
vince. But  the  torrent  does  not  wait  for  the  invitation. 
If  not  invited  it  comes  of  its  own  accord ;  headlong,  over- 
whelming, sweeping  all  before  it,  and  gathering  fresh  force 
from  every  obstacle  which  it  encounters  on  its  course. 
Such  is  Mr.  Gladstone's  table-talk.  For  conversation,  strictly 
so  called,  he  has  no  turn.  He  asks  questions  when  he 
wants  information,  and  answers  them  copiously  when  asked  ' 


144     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

by  others.  But  of  give-and-take,  of  meeting  you  half-way, 
of  paying  you  back  in  your  own  conversational  coin,  he  has 
little  notion.  He  discourses,  he  lectures,  he  harangues. 
But  if  a  subject  is  started  which  does  not  interest  him  it 
falls  flat.  He  makes  no  attempt  to  return  the  ball.  Al- 
though, when  he  is  amused,  his  amusement  is  intense  and 
long  sustained,  his  sense  of  humour  is  highly  capricious. 
It  is  impossible  for  even  his  most  intimate  friends  to  guess 
beforehand  what  will  amuse  him  and  what  will  not;  and  he 
has  a  most  disconcerting  habit  of  taking  a  comic  story  in 
grim  earnest,  and  arguing  some  farcical  fantasy  as  if  it  was 
a  serious  proposition  of  law  or  logic.  Nothing  funnier  can 
be  imagined  than  the  discomfiture  of  a  story-teller  who  has 
fondly  thought  to  tickle  the  great  man's  fancy  by  an  anecdote 
which  depends  for  its  point  upon  some  trait  of  baseness, 
cynicism,  or  sharp  practice.  He  finds  his  tale  received  in 
dead  silence,  looks  up  wonderingly  for  an  explanation,  and 
finds  that  what  was  intended  to  amuse  has  only  disgusted. 
Mr.  Browning  once  told  Mr.  Gladstone  a  highly  characteristic 
story  of  Disraelitish  duplicity,  and  for  all  reply  heard  a 
voice  choked  with  indignation  : — "  Do  you  call  that  amusing. 
Browning  ?     /  call  it  devilish."  * 

*  I  give  this  story  as  I  received  it  from  Mr.  Browning. 


XV. 

CONVERSATION— ^^^//w^^^. 

\/\  ORE  than  thirty  years  have  passed  since  the  festive 
-'-^-^  evening  described  by  Sir  George  Trevelyan  in  T^ 
Ladies  in  Parliament : — 

"  When,  over  the  port  of  the  innermost  bin, 
The  circle  of  diners  was  laughing  with  Phinn ; 
When  Brookfielcl  had  hit  on  his  happiest  vein, 
And  Harcourt  was  capping  the  jokes  of  Delane." 

The  sole  survivor  of  that  briUiant  group  now  *  leads  the 
Opposition  ;  but  at  the  time  when  the  lines  were  written 
he  had  not  yet  entered  the  House  of  Commons.  As  a 
youth  of  twenty-five  he  had  astonished  the  political  world 
by  his  anonymous  letters  on  The  Alorality  of  Public  Men, 
in  which  he  denounced,  in  the  style  of  Junius,  the  Pro- 
tectionist revival  of  1852.  He  had  fought  a  plucky  but 
unsuccessful  fight  at  Kirkcaldy ;  was  making  his  five 
thousand  a  year  at  the  Parliamentary  Bar ;  had  taught 
the  world  international  law  over  the  signature  of  "  His- 
toricus,"  and  was  already,  what  he  is  still,  one  of  the  most 
conspicuous  and  interesting  figures  in  the  society  of 
London.  Of  Sir  William  Harcourt's  political  alliances  this 
is  not  the  place  nor  am  I  the  person  to  treat : 

"  Let  the  high  Muse  chant  loves  Olympian  : 

We  are  but  mortals,  and  must  sing  of  Man." 
_  __ 


146      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

My  theme  is  not  Sir  William  Harcourt  the  politician,  but 
Sir  William  Harcourt  the  man,  the  member  of  society — 
above  all,  the  talker.  And,  although  I  have  thus  deliberately 
put  politics  on  one  side,  it  is  strictly  relevant  to  my  purpose 
to  observe  that  Sir  William  is  essentially  and  typically  a 
Whig.  For  Whiggery,  rightly  understood,  is  not  a  political 
creed  but  a  social  caste.  The  Whig,  like  the  poet,  is  born, 
not  made.  It  is  as  difficult  to  become  a  Whig  as  to  become 
a  Jew.  Macaulay  was  probably  the  only  man  who,  being 
born  outside  the  privileged  enclosure,  ever  penetrated  to  its 
heart  and  assimilated  its  spirit.  The  Whigs,  indeed,  as  a 
body  have  held  certain  opinions  and  pursued  certain 
tactics  which  have  been  analyzed  in  chapters  xix.  and  xxi. 
of  the  unexpurgated  Book  of  Snobs.  But  those  opinions 
and  those  tactics  have  been  mere  accidents,  though  perhaps 
inseparable  accidents,  of  Whiggery.  Its  substance  has 
been  relationship. 

When  Lord  John  Russell  formed  his  first  Administration 
his  opponents  alleged  that  it  was  mainly  composed  of  his 
cousins,  and  one  of  his  younger  brothers  was  charged  with 
the  impossible  task  of  rebutting  the  accusation  in  a  public 
speech.  Mr.  Beresford-Hope,  in  one  of  his  novels,  made 
excellent  fun  of  what  he  called  "  the  sacred  circle  of  the 
Great-Grandmotherhood."  He  showed — what,  indeed,  the 
Whigs  themselves  knew  uncommonly  well — that  from  a 
certain  Earl  Gower,  who  flourished  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  was  great-great-great-grandfather  of  the  present 
Duke  of  Sutherland,  are  descended  all  the  Levesons,* 
Gowers,  Howards,  Cavendishes,  Grosvenors,  Russells,  and 
Harcourts,  who  walk  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Truly  a 
noble  and  a  highly  favoured  progeny.  "They  are  our 
superiors,"  said  Thackeray;  "and  that's  the  fact.  I  am 
not  a  Whig  myself  (perhaps  it  is  as  unnecessary  to  say  so  as 
to  say  I'm  not  King  Pippin  in  a  golden  coach,  or  King 
*  Cromartie,  4th  Duke. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      147 

Hudson,  or  Miss  Burdett-Coutts).     I'm  not  a  Whig;  but 
oh,  how  I  should  like  to  be  one  !  " 

From  this  illustrious  stock  Sir  William  Harcourt  is 
descended  through  his  grandmother,  Lady  Anne  Harcourt 
— born  Leveson-Gower,  and  wife  of  the  last  Prince-Arch- 
bishop of  York  (whom,  by  the  way,  Sir  William  strikingly 
resembles  both  in  figure  and  in  feature).  When  one  meets 
Sir  William  Harcourt  for  the  first  time  in  society,  perhaps 
one  is  first  struck  by  the  fact  that  he  is  in  aspect  and 
bearing  a  great  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  and  then  that 
he  is  an  admirable  talker.  He  is  a  true  Whig  in  culture  as 
well  as  in  blood.  Though  his  conversation  is  never  pedantic, 
it  rests  on  a  wide  and  strong  basis  of  generous  learning. 
Even  those  who  most  cordially  admire  his  political  ability 
do  not  always  remember  that  he  is  an  excellent  scholar,  and 
graduated  as  eighth  in  the  First  Class  of  the  Classical 
Tripos  in  the  year  when  Bishop  Lightfoot  was  Senior 
Classic.  He  has  the  Corpus  Poetarum  and  Shakespeare 
and  Pope  at  his  finger-ends,  and  his  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  political  history  of  England  elicited  a  characteristic 
compliment  from  Lord  Beaconsfield.  It  is  his  favourite 
boast  that  in  all  his  tastes,  sentiments,  and  mental  habits 
he  belongs  to  the  eighteenth  century,  which  he  glorifies  as 
the  golden  age  of  reason,  patriotism,  and  liberal  learning. 
This  self-estimate  strikes  me  as  perfectly  sound,  and  it 
requires  a  very  slight  effort  of  the  imagination  to  conceive 
this  well-born  young  Templar  wielding  his  doughty  pen  in 
the  Bangorian  Controversy,  or  declaiming  on  the  hustings 
for  Wilkes  and  Liberty ;  bandying  witticisms  with  Sheridan, 
and  capping  Latin  verses  with  Charles  Fox ;  or  helping  to 
rule  England  as  a  member  of  that  "  Venetian  Oligarchy  " 
on  which  Lord  Beaconsfield  lavished  all  the  vials  of  his 
sarcasm.  In  truth,  it  is  not  fanciful  to  say  that  whatever 
was  best  in  the  eighteenth  century — its  robust  common 
sense,  its  racy  humour,  its  thorough  and  unaffected  learning; 


148      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

its  ceremonious  courtesy  for  great  occasions,  its  jolly  self- 
abandonment  in  social  intercourse — is  exhibited  in  the 
demeanour  and  conversation  of  Sir  William  Harcourt.  He 
is  an  admirable  host,  and,  to  borrow  a  phrase  from  Sydney 
Smith,  "  receives  his  friends  with  that  honest  joy  which 
warms  more  than  dinner  or  wine."  As  a  guest,  he  is  a 
splendid  acquisition,  always  ready  to  amuse  and  to  be 
amused,  delighting  in  the  rapid  cut-and-thrust  of  personal 
banter,  and  bringing  out  of  his  treasure  things  new  and 
old  for  the  amusement  and  the  benefit  of  a  later  and  less 
instructed  generation. 

Extracts  from  the  private  conversation  of  living  people,  as 
a  rule,  I  forbear  ;  but  some  of  Sir  William's  quotations  are 
so  extraordinarily  apt  that  they  deserve  a  permanent  place 
in  the  annals  of  table-talk.  That  fine  old  country  gentle- 
man, the  late  Lord  Knightley  (who  was  the  living  double  of 
Dickens's  Sir  Leicester  Dedlock),  had  been  expatiating 
after  dinner  on  theundoubted  glories  of  his  famous  pedigree. 
The  company  was  getting  a  little  restive  under  the  recitation, 
I  when  Sir  William  was  heard  to  say,  in  an  appreciative 
T aside,  "This  reminds  me  of  Addison's  evening  hymn — 

I  'And  Knightley  to  the  listening  earth      / 

Repeats  the  story  of  his  birth.'  " 

Surely  the  force  of  apt  citation  can  no  further  go.  When 
Lord  Tennyson  chanced  to  say  in  Sir  William  Harcourt's 
hearing  that  his  pipe  after  breakfast  was  the  most  enjoyable 
of  the  day,  Sir  William  softly  murmured  the  Tennysonian 
line — 

"  The  earliest  pipe  of  half-awakened  birds." 

Some  historians  say  that  he  substituted  "  bards "  for 
"birds,"  and  the  reception  accorded  by  the  poet  to  the 
parody  was  not  as  cordial  as  its  excellence  deserved. 

Another  capital  talker  is  Sir  George  Trevelyan.     He  has 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      149 

been,  from  the  necessities  of  his  position,  a  man  of  the 
world  and  a  politician,  and  he  is  as  ready  as  Mr.  Bertie- 
Tremaine's  guests  in  Endymion  to  talk  of  "  that  heinous 
subject  on  which  enormous  fibs  are  ^ver  told  —  the 
Registration."  But,  after  all,  the  man  of  the  world  and  the 
politician  are  only  respectable  parts  which  he  had  been 
bound  to  assume,  and  he  has  played  them  with  assiduity 
and  success :  but  the  true  man  in  Sir^  George  Trevelyan  is 
the  man  of  letters.  Whenever  he  touches  a  historical  or 
literary  theme  his  whole  being  seems  to  undergo  a  trans- 
formation. The  real  nature  flashes  out  through  his  twinkling 
eyes.  While  he  muses  the  fire  burns,  and,  like  the  Psalmist, 
he  speaks  with  his  tongue.  Dates  and  details,  facts  and 
traditions,  cantos  and  poetry,  reams  of  prose,  English  and 
Latin  and  Greek  and  French,  come  tumbling  out  in  head- 
long but  not  disorderly  array.  He  jumps  at  an  open- 
ing, seizes  an  illusion,  replies  with  lightning  quickness 
to  a  conversational  challenge,  and  is  ready  at  a  moment's 
notice  to  decide  any  literary  or  historical  controversy  in  a 
measured  tone  of  deliberate  emphasis  which  is  not  wholly 
free  from  exaggeration.  Like  his  uncle  Lord  Macaulay,  Sir 
George  Trevelyan  has  "  his  own  heightened  and  telling  way 
of  putting  things,"  and  those  who  know  him  well  make 
allowance  for  this  habit.  For  the  rest,  he  is  delightful 
company,  light-hearted  as  a  boy,  full  of  autobiographical 
chit-chat  about  Harrow  and  Trinity,  and  India  and  Holly 
Lodge,  eagerly  interested  in  his  friends'  concerns,  brimming 
over  with  enthusiasm,  never  bored,  never  flat,  never  stale. 
A  well-concerted  party  is  a  kind  of  unconscious  conspiracy 
to  promote  cheerfulness  and  enjoyment,  and  in  such  an 
undertaking  there  can  be  no  more  serviceable  ally  than  Sir 
George  Trevelyan. 

Mr.  John  Morley's  agreeableness  in  conversation  is  of  a 
different  kind.  His  leading  characteristic  is  a  dignified 
austerity  of  demeanour  which  repels  familiarity  and  tends 


150      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

to  keep  conversation  on  a  high  level ;  but  each  time  one 
meets  him  there  is  less  formality  and  less  restraint,  and  the 
grave  courtesy  which  never  fails  is  soon  touched  with 
friendliness  and  frank  good-humour  in  a  singularly  attractive 
fashion.  He  talks,  not  much,  but  remarkably  well.  His 
sentences  are  deliberate,  clear-cut,  often  eloquent.  He 
excels  in  phrase-making.  His  quotations  are  apt  and 
novel.  His  fine  taste  and  varied  reading  enable  him  to 
hold  his  own  in  many  fields  where  the  merely  professional 
politician  is  apt  to  be  terribly  astray.  His  kindness  to 
social  and  literary  beginners  is  one  of  his  most  engaging 
traits.  He  invariably  finds  something  pleasant  to  say  about 
the  most  immature  and  unpromising  efforts,  and  he  has  the 
knack  of  so  handling  his  own  early  experience  as  to  make 
it  an  encouragement  and  a  stimulus,  and  not  (as  the 
manner  of  some  is)  a  burden  and  a  bogey.  Mr.  Morley 
never  obtrudes  his  own  opinions,  never  introduces  debatable 
matter,  never  dogmatizes.  But  he  is  always  ready  to  pick 
up  the  gauntlet,  especially  if  a  Tory  flings  it  down ;  is 
merciless  towards  ill-formed  assertion,  and  is  the  alert  and 
unsparing  enemy  of  what  Mr.  Ruskin  calls  "the  obscene 
empires  of  Mammon  and  Belial." 

Lord  Salisbury  goes  so  little  into  general  society  that  his 
qualities  as  a  talker  are  not  familiarly  known.  He  is  pain- 
fully shy,  and  at  a  club  or  in  a  large  party  undergoes  the 
torments  of  the  lost.  Yet  no  one  can  listen,  even  casually, 
to  his  conversation  without  appreciating  the  fine  manner, 
full  both  of  dignity  and  of  courtesy ;  the  utter  freedom 
from  pomposity,  formality,  and  self-assertion,  and  the 
agreeable  dash  of  genuine  cynicism,  which  modifies, 
though  it  does  not  mask,  the  flavour  of  his  fun.  After  a 
visit  to  Hatfield  in  1868,  Bishop  Wilberforce  wrote  in  his 
diary:  " Gladstone  how  struck  with  Salisbury:  'Never  saw 
a  more  perfect  host.'  "  And  again — "  He  remarked  to  me 
on   the   great   power  of  charming   and   pleasant   host-ing 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      151 

possessed  by  Salisbury."  And  it  is  the  universal  testimony 
of  Lord  Salisbury's  guests,  whether  at  Hatfield  or  in  Arling- 
ton Street,  that  he  is  seen  at  his  very  best  in  his  own  house. 
The  combination  of  such  genuine  amiability  in  private  life 
with  such  calculated  brutality  in  public  utterance  constitutes 
a  psychological  problem  which  might  profitably  be  made 
the  subject  of  a  Romanes  Lecture. 

Barring  the  shyness,  from  which  Mr.  Balfour  is  conspicu- 
ously free,  there  is  something  of  Lord  Salisbury's  social 
manner  about  his  accomplished  nephew.  He  has  the  same 
courtesy,  the  same  sense  of  humour,  the  same  freedom 
from  official  solemnity.  But  the  characteristics  of  the  elder 
man  are  exaggerated  in  the  younger.  The  cynicism  which 
is  natural  in  Lord  Salisbury  is  affected  in  Mr.  Balfour.  He 
cultivates  the  art  of  indifference,  and  gives  himself  the  airs 
of  a  jaded  Epicurean  who  craves  only  for  a  new  sensation. 
There  is  what  an  Irish  Member,  in  a  moment  of  inspiration, 
called  a  "  toploftiness "  about  his  social  demeanour  which 
is  not  a  little  irritating.  He  is  too  anxious  to  show  that  he 
is  not  as  other  men  are.  Among  politicians  he  is  a 
philosopher ;  among  philosophers,  a  politician.  Before 
that  hard-bitten  crew  whom  Burke  ridiculed — the  "calcu- 
lators and  economists" — he  "will  falk  airily  of  golf  and 
ladies'  fashions ;  and  ladies  he  will  seek  to  impress  by  the 
Praise  of  Vivisection  or  the  Defence  of  Philosophic  Douljt. 
His  social  agreeableness  has,  indeed,  been  marred  by  the 
fatuous  idolatry  of  a  fashionable  clique,  stimulating  the  self- 
consciousness  which  was  his  natural  foible ;  but  when  he 
can  for  a  moment  forget  himself  he  still  is  excellent  com- 
pany, for  he  is  genuinely  amiable  and  thoroughly  well 
informed. 


XVI. 

CO^YERSATIO'^— continued. 

nPHE  writer  of  these  chapters  has  ahvays  felt  some  inward 
-*-  affinity  to  the  character  of  Lord  St.  Jerome  in  Lothair, 
of  whom  it  is  recorded  that  he  loved  conversation,  though 
he  never  conversed.  "  There  must  be  an  audience,"  he 
would  say,  "  and  I  am  the  audience."  In  my  capacity  of 
audience  I  assign  a  high  place  to  the  agreeableness  of  Lord 
Rosebery's  conversation.  To  begin  with,  he  has  a  delight- 
ful voice.  It  is  low,  but  perfectly  distinct,  rich  and  sympa- 
thetic in  quality,  and  singularly  refined  in  accent.  It  is 
exactly  the  sort  of  voice  which  bespeaks  the  goodwill  of  the 
hearer  and  recommends  what  it  utters.  In  a  former  chapter 
we  agreed  that  the  chief  requisite  of  good  conversation  is  to 
have  something  to  say  which  is  worth  saying,  and  here  Lord 
Rosebery  is  excellently  equipped.  Last  week  the  newspapers 
announced  with  a  flourish  of  rhetorical  trumpets  that  he  had 
just  celebrated  his  fiftieth  birthday.*  Some  of  the  trumpeters, 
with  a  laudable  intention  to  be  civil,  cried,  "  Is  it  possible 
that  he  can  be  so  old  ?  "  Others,  with  subtler  art,  professed 
themselves  unable  to  believe  that  he  was  so  young.  Each 
compliment  contained  its  element  of  truth.  In  appearance, 
air,  and  tastes  Lord  Rosebery  is  still  young.  In  experience, 
knowledge,  and  conduct  he  is  already  old.  He  has  had  a 
vivid  and  a  varied  experience.     He  is  equally  at  home  on 

*  May  7,  1897. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      153 

Epsom  Downs  and  in  thti  House  of  Lords.  His  life  has 
be°n  full  of  action,  incident,  and  interest.  He  has  not  only 
collected  books,  but  has  read  them;  and  has  found  time, 
ever,  amid  the  engrossing  demands  of  the  London  County 
Council,  the  Turf,  and  the  Foreign  Office,  not  only  for  study, 
but — what  is  much  more  remarkable — for  thought. 

So  far,  then,  as  substance  goes,  his  conversation  is  (to  use 
Mr.  Gladstone's  quaint  phrase)  "  as  full  of  infinitely  varied 
matter  as  an  egg  is  full  of  meat ; "  and  in  its  accidents  and 
ornaments  it  complies  exactly  with  the  conditions  laid  down 
in  a  former  chapter — a  manner  which  knows  how  to  be  easy 
and  free  without  being  free-and-easy ;  habitual  deference  to 
the  tastes  and  prejudices  of  other  people ;  a  courteous  desire 
to  be,  or  at  least  to  seem,  interested  in  their  concerns ;  and 
a  recollection  that  even  the  most  patient  hearers  (among 
whom  the  present  writer  reckons  himself)  may  sometimes 
wish  to  be  speakers.  To  these  gifts  he  adds  a  keen  sense  of 
humour,  a  habit  of  close  observation,  and  a  sub-acid  vein  of 
sarcasm  which  resembles  the  dash  of  Tarragon  in  a  success- 
ful salad.  In  a  word,  Lord  Rosebery  is  one  of  the  most 
agreeable  talkers  of  the  day ;  and  even  if  it  is  true  that 
//  s'ecouie  quand  il parle^  his  friends  may  reply  that  it  would 
be  strange  indeed  if  one  could  help  listening  to  what  is  always 
so  agreeable  and  often  so  brilliant. 

A  genial  journalist  recently  said  that  Mr.  Goschen  was 
now  chiefly  remembered  by  the  fact  that  he  had  once  had  Sir 
Alfred  Milner  for  his  Private  Secretary.  But  whatever  may 
be  thought  of  the  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  as  a  politician 
and  an  administrator,  I  claim  for  him  a  high  place  among 
agreeable  talkers.  There  are  some  men  who  habitually  use 
the  same  style  of  speech  in  public  and  in  private  life. 
Happily  for  his  friends,  this  is  not  the  case  with  Mr.  Goschen. 
Nothing  can  be  less  agreeable  than  his  public  style,  whether 
on  the  platform  or  in  the  House  of  Commons.  Its  tawdry 
staginess,  its  "Sadler's  Wells  sarcasm,"  its  constant  striving 


154      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

after  strong  effects,  are  distressing  to  good  taste.  But  in 
private  life  he  is  another  and  a  much  more  agreeable  nan. 
He  is  courteous,  genial,  perfectly  free  from  affectation,  and 
enters  into  the  discussion  of  social  banalities  as  eagerly  and 
as  brightly  as  if  he  had  never  converted  the  Three  per  Cents. 
or  established  the  ratio  between  dead  millionaires  and  new 
ironclads.  His  easiness  in  conversation  is  perhaps  a  little 
marred  by  a  Teutonic  tendency  to  excessive  analysis  which 
will  not  suffer  him  to  rest  until  he  has  resolved  every  subject 
and  almost  every  phrase  into  its  primary  elements.  But  this 
philosophic  temperament  has  its  counterbalancing  advantages 
in  a  genuine  openness  of  mind,  willingness  to  weigh  and 
measure  opposing  views,  and  inaccessibility  to  intellectual 
passion.  It  is  true  that  on  the  platform  the  exigencies  of 
his  position  compel  him  to  indulge  in  mock-heroics  and  cut 
rhetorical  capers  for  which  Nature  never  designed  him  ;  but 
these  are  for  public  consumption  only,  and  when  he  is  not 
playing  to  the  gallery  he  can  discuss  his  political  opponents 
and  their  sayings  and  doings  as  dispassionately  as  a  micro- 
scopist  examines  a  black-beetle.  Himself  a  good  talker,  Mr. 
Goschen  encourages  good  talk  in  other  people ;  and  in  old 
days,  when  the  Art  of  Conversation  was  still  seriously  culti- 
vated, he  used  to  gather  round  his  table  in  Portland  Place  a 
group  of  intimate  friends  who  drank  '34  port  and  conversed 
accordingly.  Among  these  were  Lord  Sherbrooke,  whose 
aptness  in  quotation  and  dexterity  in  repartee  have  never,  in 
my  experience,  been  surpassed ;  and  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Cockburn,  whose  "sunny  face  and  voice  of  music,  which 
lent  melody  to  scorn  and  sometimes  reached  the  depth  of 
pathos,"  were  gracefully  commemorated  by  Lord  Beacons- 
field  in  his  sketch  of  Hortensius.  But  this  belongs  to 
ancient  history,  and  my  business  is  with  the  conversation  of 
.to-day. 

Very   distinctly  of    to-day   is   the    conversation  of  Mr. 
Labouchere.     Even  our  country  cousins  are  aware  that  the 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      155 

Member  for  Northampton  is  less  an  ornament  of  general 
society  than  the  oracle  of  an  initiated  circle.  The  smoking- 
room  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  his  shrine,  and  there, 
poised  in  an  American  rocking-chair  and  delicately  toying 
with  a  cigarette,  he  unlocks  the  varied  treasures  of  his  well- 
stored  memory,  and  throws  over  the  changing  scenes  of  life 
the  mild  light  of  his  genial  philosophy.  It  is  a  chequered 
experience  that  has  made  him  what  he  is.  He  has  known 
men  and  cities ;  has  probed  in  turn  the  mysteries  of  the 
caucus,  the  green-room,  and  the  Stock  Exchange ;  has  been 
a  diplomatist,  a  financier,  a  journalist,  and  a  politician. 
Under  these  circumstances,  it  is  perhaps  not  surprising  that 
his  faith — no  doubt  originally  robust — in  the  purity  of  human 
nature  and  the  uprightness  of  human  motive  should  have 
undergone  some  process  of  degeneration.  Still  it  may  be 
questioned  whether,  after  all  that  he  has  seen  and  done,  he 
is  the  absolute  and  all-round  cynic  that  he  would  seem  to  be. 
The  palpable  endeavour  to  make  out  the  worst  of  every  one 
— including  himself —gives  a  certain  flavour  of  unreality  to 
his  conversation ;  but,  in  spite  of  this  peculiarity,  he  is  an 
engaging  talker.  His  language  is  racy  and  incisive,  and  he 
talks  as  neatly  as  he  writes.  His  voice  is  pleasant,  and  his 
utterance  deliberate  and  effective.  He  has  a  keen  eye  for 
absurdities  and  incongruities,  a  shrewd  insight  into  affectation 
and  bombast,  and  an  admirable  impatience  of  all  the  moral 
and  intellectual  qualities  which  constitute  the  Bore.  He  is 
by  no  means  inclined  to  bow  his  knee  too  slavishly  to  an 
exalted  reputation,  and  analyzes  with  agreeable  frankness  the 
personal  and  political  qualities  of  great  and  good  men,  even 
if  they  sit  on  the  front  Opposition  bench.  As  a  contributor 
to  enjoyment,  as  a  promoter  of  fun,  as  an  unmasker  of  poli- 
tical and  social  humbug,  he  is  unsurpassed.  His  perform- 
ances in  debate  are  no  concern  of  mine,  for  I  am  speaking 
of  conversation  only  ;  but  most  Members  of  Parliament  will 
agree  that  he  is  the  best  companion  that  can  be  found  for 


156     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

/ 
the  last  weary  half-hour  before  the  division-bell  rings,  wheii 

some  eminent  nonentity  is  declaiming  his  foregone  con- 
clusions to  an  audience  whose  whole  mind  is  fixed  on  the 
chance  of  finding  a  disengaged  cab  in  Palace  Yard. 

Like  Mr.  Labouchere,  Lord  Acton  has  touched  life  at 
many  points — but  not  the  same.  He  is  a  theologian,  a 
professor,  a  man  of  letters,  a  member  of  society;  and  his 
conversation  derives  a  distinct  tinge  from  each  of  these 
environments. .  When,  at  intervals  all  too  long,  he  quits  his 
retirement  at  Cannes  or  Cambridge,  and  flits  mysteriously 
across  the  social  scene,  his  appearance  is  hailed  with  devout 
rejoicing  by  every  one  who  appreciates  manifold  learning, 
a  courtly  manner,  and  a  delicately  sarcastic  vein  of  humour. 
The  distinguishing  feature  of  Lord  Acton's  conversation  is 
an  air  of  sphinx-like  mystery,  which  suggests  that  he  knows 
a  great  deal  more  than  he  is  willing  to  impart.  Partly  by 
what  he  says,  and  even  more  by  what  he  leaves  unsaid,  his 
hearers  are  made  to  feel  that,  if  he  has  not  acted  conspicuous 
parts,  he  has  been  behind  the  scenes  of  many  and  very 
different  theatres. 

He  has  had  relations,  neither  few  nor  unimportant,  with 
the  Pope  and  the  Old  Catholics,  with  Oxford  and  Lambeth, 
with  the  cultivated  Whiggery  of  the  great  English  families, 
with  the  philosophic  radicalism  of  Germany,  and  with  those 
Nationalist  complications  which,  in  these  later  days,  have 
drawn  official  Liberalism  into  their  folds.  He  has  long 
lived  on  terms  of  the  closest  intimacy  with  Mr.  Gladstone, 
and  may  perhaps  be  bracketed  with  Canon  MacColl  and 
Sir  Algernon  West  as  the  most  absolute  and  profound 
Gladstonian  outside  the  family  circle  of  Hawarden.  But  he 
is  thoroughly  eclectic  in  his  friendships,  and  when  he  is 
i:i  London  he  flits  from  Lady  Hayter's  tea-table  to  Mr. 
Goschen's  bureau,  analyzes  at  the  Athenaeum  the  gossip 
which  he  has  acquired  at  Brooks's,  and  by  dinner-time 
is  able,  if  only  he  is  willing,  to  tell  you  what  Spain  intends 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      157 

and  what  America  ;  the  present  relations  between  the  Curia 
and  the  Secret  Societies ;  how  long  Lord  Salisbury  will 
combine  the  Premiership  with  the  Foreign  Office  ;  and  the 
latest  theory  about  the  side  of  Whitehall  on  which  Charles  I. 
was  beheaded. 

The  ranks  of  our  good  talkers — none  too  numerous  a 
body  at  the  best,  and  sadly  thinned  by  the  losses  which  I 
described  in  a  former  chapter — have  been  opportunely  re- 
inforced by  the  discovery  of  Mr.  Augustine  Birrell.  For 
forty-eight  years  he  has  walked  this  earth,  but  it  is  only 
during  the  last  nine — in  short,  since  he  entered  Parliament 
— that  the  admirable  qualities  of  his  conversation  have  been 
generally  recognized.  Before  that  time  his  delightful  Obiter 
Dicta  had  secured  for  him  a  wide  circle  of  friends  who  had 
never  seen  his  face,  and  by  these  admirers  his  first  appear- 
ance on  the  social  scene  was  awaited  with  lively  interest. 
What  would  he  be  like  ?  Should  we  be  disillusioned  ? 
Would  he  talk  as  pleasantly  as  he  wrote?  Well,  in  due 
course  he  appeared,  and  the  questions  were  soon  answered 
in  a  sense  as  laudatory  as  his  friends  or  even  himself  could 
have  desired.  It  was  unanimously  voted  that  his  conver- 
sation was  as  agreeable  as  his  writing ;  but,  oddly  enough, 
its  agreeableness  was  of  an  entirely  different  kind.  His 
literary  knack  of  chatty  criticism  had  required  a  new  word 
to  convey  its  precise  effect.  To  "  birrell "  is  now  a  verb  as 
firmly  established  as  to  "boycott,"  and  it  signifies  a  style 
light,  easy,  playful,  pretty,  rather  discursive,  perhaps  a  little 
superficial.  Its  characteristic  note  is  grace.  But  when  the 
eponymous  hero  of  the  new  verb  entered  the  conversational 
lists  it  was  seen  that  his  predominant  quality  was  strength. 

An  enthusiastic  admirer  who  sketched  him  in  a  novel 
nicknamed  him  "The  Harmonious  Blacksmith,"  and  the 
collocation  of  words  happily  hits  off  the  special  quality  "of 
his  conversation.  There  is  burly  strength  in  his  positive 
opinions,  his  cogent  statement,  his    remorseless  logic,   his 


158     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

thorough  knowledge  of  the  persons  and  things  that  he  dis- 
cusses. In  his  sledge-hammer  blows  against  humbug  and 
wickedness,  intellectual  affectation,  and  moral  baseness,  he 
is  the  Blacksmith  all  over.  In  his  geniality,  his  sociability, 
his  genuine  love  of  fun,  his  frank  readiness  to  amuse  or  be 
amused,  the  epithet  "  harmonious "  is  abundantly  justified. 
He  cultivates  to  some  extent  the  airs  and  tone  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  in  which  his  studies  have  chiefly  lain. 
He  says  what  he  means,  and  calls  a  spade  a  spade,  and 
glories  in  an  old-fashioned  prejudice.  He  is  the  joUiest  of 
companions  and  the  steadiest  of  friends,  and  perhaps  the 
most  genuine  book-lover  in  London,  where,  as  a  rule,  people 
are  too  "  cultured  "  to  read  books,  though  willing  enough  to 
chatter  about  them. 


XVII. 

CLERGYMEN. 

(~^LERUS  Anglicanus  stupor  ir.undi.  I  believe  that 
this  complimentary  proverb  originally  referred  to 
the  learning  of  the  English  clergy,  but  it  would  apply 
with  equal  truth  to  their  social  agreeableness.  When 
I  was  writing  about  the  Art  of  Conversation  and  the  men 
who  excelled  in  it,  I  was  surprised  to  find  how  many  of  the 
best  sayings  that  recurred  spontaneously  to  my  memory  had 
a  clerical  origin ;  and  it  struck  me  that  a  not  uninteresting 
chapter  might  be  written  about  the  social  agreeableness  of 
clergymen.  A  mere  layman  may  well  feel  a  natural  and 
becoming  diffidence  in  venturing  to  harrdlc  so  high  a 
theme. 

In  a  former  chapter  I  said  something  of  the  secular 
magnificence  which  surrounded  great  prelates  in  the  good 
old  days,  when  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  could  only  be 
approached  on  gilt-edged  paper,  and  even  the  Bishop  of 
impecunious  Oxford  never  appeared  in  his  Cathedral  city 
without  four  horses  and  two  powdered  footmen.  In  a 
certain  sense,  no  doubt,  these  splendid  products  of  estab- 
lished religion  conduced  to  social  agreeableness.  Like  the 
excellent  prelate  described  in  Friendship's  Garland^  they 
"  had  thoroughly  learnt  the  divine  lesson  that  charity  begins 
at  home."  They  maintained  an  abundant  hospitality ;  they 
celebrated  domestic  events  by  balls  at  the  episcopal  palace ; 


i6o      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS 

they  did  not  disdain  (as  we  gather  from  the  Life  of  the  Hon. 
and  Rev.  George  Spencer)  the  relaxation  of  a  rubber  of 
whist,  even  on  the  night  before  an  Ordination,  with  a 
candidate  for  a  partner.  They  dined  out,  like  that  well- 
drawn  bishop  in  Little  Dorrit,  who  "was  crisp,  fresh,  cheer- 
ful, affable,  bland,  but  so  surprisingly  innocent;"  or  like 
the  prelate  on  whom  Thackeray  moralized  :  "  My  Lord,  I 
was  pleased  to  see  good  thing  after  good  thing  disappear 
before  you ;  and  think  that  no  man  ever  better  became  that 
rounded  episcopal  apron.  How  amiable  he  was !  how 
kind!  He  put  water  into  his  wine.  Let  us  respect  the 
moderation  of  the  Establishment." 

But  the  agreeableness  which  I  had  in  my  mind  when  I 
took  upon  myself  to  discourse  of  agreeable  clergymen  was 
not  an  official  but  a  personal  agreeableness.  We  have  been 
told  on  high  authority  that  the  Merriment  of  Parsons  is 
mighty  offensive ;  but  the  truth  of  this  dictum  depends 
entirely  on  the  topic  of  the  merriment.  A  clergyman  who 
made  light  of  the  religion  which  he  professes  to  teach,  or 
even  joked  about  the  incidents  and  accompaniments  of 
his  sacred  calling,  would  by  common  consent  be  intolerable. 
Decency  exacts  from  priests  at  least  a  semblance  of  piety; 
but  I  entirely  deny  that  there  is  anything  offensive  in  the 
"  merriment  of  parsons  "  when  it  plays  round  subjects  out- 
side the  scope  of  their  professional  duties. 

Of  Sydney  Smith  .Lord  Houghton  recorded  that  "he 
never,  except  once,  knew  him  to  make  a  jest  on  any  religious 
subject,  and  then  he  immediately  withdrew  his  words,  and 
seemed  ashamed  that  he  had  uttered  them ; "  and  I  regard 
the  admirable  Sydney  as  not  only  the  supreme  head  of  all 
ecclesiastical  jesters,  but  as,  on  the  whole,  the  greatest 
humorist  whose  jokes  have  come  down  to  us  in  an  authentic 
and  unmutilated  form.  Almost  alone  among  professional 
jokers,  he  made  his  merriment — rich,  natural,  fantastic, 
unbridled  as  it  was — subserve  the  serious  purposes  of  his 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   .t6i 

life  and  writing.  Each  joke  was  a  link  in  an  argument ;  each 
sarcasm  was  a  moral  lesson. 

Peter  Plymley's  Letters^  and  those  addressed  to  Arch- 
deacon Singleton,  the  Essays  on  Aftierica  and  Perseaiting 
Bishops^  will  probably  be  read  as  long  as  the  Tale  of  a  Tub 
or  Macaulay's  review  of  Montgomery's  Poems ;  while  of 
detached  and  isolated  jokes  —  pure  freaks  of  fun  clad 
in  literary  garb  —  an  incredible  number  of  those  which 
are  current  in  daily  converse  deduce  their  birth  from  this 
incomparable  Canon. 

When  one  is  talking  of  facetious  clergymen,  it  is  inevitable 
to  think  of  Bishop  Wilberforce ;  but  his  humour  was  of  an 
entirely  different  quality  from  that  of  Sydney  Smith.  To 
begin  with,  it  is  unquotable.  It  must,  I  think,  have  struck 
every  reader  of  the  Bishop's  Life,  whether  in  the  three  huge 
volumes  of  the  authorized  Biography  or  in  the  briefer  but 
more  characteristic  monograph  of  Dean  Burgon,  that, 
though  the  biographers  had  themselves  tasted  and  enjoyed 
to  the  full  the  peculiar  flavour  of  his  fun,  they  utterly  failed 
in  the  attempt  to  convey  it  to  the  reader.  Puerile  puns, 
personal  banter  of  a  rather  homely  type,  and  good  stories 
collected  from  other  people  are  all  that  the  books  disclose. 
Animal  spirits  did  the  rest ;  and  yet,  by  the  concurrent 
testimony  of  nearly  all  who  knew  him.  Bishop  Wilberforce 
was  not  only  one  of  the  most  agreeable  but  one  of  the  most 
amusing  men  of  his  time.  We  know  from  one  of  his  own 
letters  that  he  peculiarly  disliked  the  description  which  Lord 
Beaconsfield  gave  of  him  in  Lothair,  and  on  the  principle 
of  Ce  rCest  que  la  virite  qui  blesse,  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  recall  it :  "  The  Bishop  was  particularly  playful  on 
the  morrow  at  breakfast.  Though  his  face  beamed  with 
Christian  kindness,  there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  which 
seemed  not  entirely  superior  to  mundane  self-complacency, 
even  to  a  sense  of  earthly  merriment.  His  seraphic  raillery 
elicited   sympathetic   applause    from   the   ladies,   especially 


i62      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

from  the  daughters  of  the  house,  who  laughed  occasionally 
even  before  his  angelic  jokes  were  well  launched." 

Mr.  Bright  once  said,  with  characteristic  downrightness, 
"  If  I  was  paid  what  a  bishop  is  paid  for  doing  what  a 
bishop  does,  I  should  find  abundant  cause  for  merriment  in 
the  credulity  of  my  countrymen ;  "  and,  waiving  the  theo- 
logical animus  which  the  saying  implies,  it  is  not  uncharitable 
to  surmise  that  a  general  sense  of  prosperity  and  a  strong 
faculty  of  enjoying  life  in  all  its  aspects  and  phases  had 
much  to  do  with  Bishop  Wilberforce's  exuberant  and 
infectious  jollity.  "A  truly  emotional  spirit,"  wrote 
Matthew  Arnold,  after  meeting  him  in  a  country  house, 
"  he  undoubtedly  has  beneath  his  outside  of  society- 
haunting  and  men-pleasing,  and  each  of  the  two  lives  he 
leads  gives  him  the  more  zest  for  the  other." 

A  scarcely  less  prominent  figure  in  society  than  Bishop 
Wilberforce,  and  to  many  people  a  much  more  attractive 
one,  was  Dean  Stanley.  A  clergyman  to  whom  the  Queen 
signed  herself  "  Ever  yours  affectionately  "  must  certainly  be 
regarded  as  the  social  head  of  his  profession,  and  every 
circumstance  of  Stanley's  nature  and  antecedents  exactly 
fitted  him  for  the  part.  He  was  in  truth  a  spoiled  child 
of  fortune,  in  a  sense  more  refined  and  spiritual  than  the 
phrase  generally  conveys.  He  was  born  of  famous  ancestry, 
in  a  bright  and  unworldly  home  ;  early  filled  with  the  moral 
and  intellectual  enthusiasms  of  Rugby  in  its  best  days ; 
steeped  in  the  characteristic  culture  of  Oxford,  and  advanced 
by  easy  stages  of  well-deserved  promotion  to  the  most  de- 
lightful of  all  offices  in  the  Church  of  England.  His  inward 
nature  accorded  well  with  this  happy  environment.  It  was 
in  a  singular  degree  pure,  simple,  refined,  ingenuous.  All 
the  grosser  and  harsher  elements  of  human  character  seemed 
to  have  been  omitted  from  his  composition.  He  was 
naturally  good,  naturally  graceful,  naturally  amiable.  A 
sense  of  humour  was,  I  think,  almost  the  only  intellectual 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      163 

gift  with  which  he  was  not  endowed.  Lord  Beaconsfield 
spoke  of  his  "picturesque  sensibility,"  and  the  phrase  was 
happily  chosen.  He  had  the  keenest  sympathy  with  what- 
ever was  graceful  in  literature  ;  a  style  full  of  flexibility  and 
colour  ;  a  rare  faculty  of  graphic  description  ;  and  all  glorified 
by  something  of  the  poet's  imagination.  His  conversation 
was  incessant,  teeming  with  information,  and  illustrated  by 
familiar  acquaintance  with  all  the  best  that  has  been  thought 
and  said  in  the  world. 

Never  was  a  brighter  intellect  or  a  more  gallant  heart 
housed  in  a  more  fragile  form.  His  figure,  features,  bearing, 
and  accent  were  the  very  type  of  refinement;  and  as  the 
spare  figure,  so  short  yet  so  full  of  dignity,  marked  out  by  the 
decanal  dress  and  the  red  ribbon  of  the  Order  of  the  Bath, 
threaded  its  way  through  the  crowded  saloons  of  London 
society,  one  felt  that  the  Church,  as  a  civilizing  institution, 
could  not  be  more  appropriately  represented. 

A  lady  of  Presbyterian  antecedents  who  had  conformed 
to  Anglicanism  once  said  to  the  present  writer,  "  I  dislike  the 
Episcopal  Church  as  much  as  ever,  but  I  love  the  Decanal 
Church."  Her  warmest  admiration  was  reserved  for  that 
particular  Dean,  supreme  alike  in  station  and  in  charm, 
whom  I  have  just  now  been  describing;  but  there  were,  at 
the  time  of  speaking,  several  other  members  of  the  same 
order  who  were  conspicuous  ornaments  of  the  society  in 
which  they  moved.  There  was  Dr.  Elliot,  Dean  of  Bristol, 
a  yearly  visitor  to  London;  dignified,  clever,  agreeable, 
highly  connected  ;  an  administrator,  a  politician,  an  admir- 
able talker;  and  so  little  trammelled  by  any  ecclesiastical 
prejudices  or  habitudes  that  he  might  have  been  the 
original  of  Dr.  Stanhope  in  Barchester  Towers.  There  was 
Dr.  Liddell,  Dean  of  Christ  Church,  whose  periodical 
appearances  at  Court  and  in  society  displayed  to  the 
admiring  gaze  of  the  world  the  very  handsomest  and  state- 
liest specimen  of  the  old  English  gentleman  that  our  time 


i64     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

has  produced.  There  was  Dr.  Church,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's, 
by  many  competent  judges  pronounced  to  be  our  most 
accomplished  man  of  letters,  yet  so  modest  and  so  retiring 
that  the  world  was  never  suffered  to  come  in  contact  with 
him  except  through  his  books.  And  there  was  Dr.  Vaughan, 
Dean  of  Llandaff.  who  concealed  under  the  blandest  of 
manners  a  remorseless  sarcasm  and  a  mordant  wit,  and  who, 
returning  from  the  comparative  publicity  of  the  Athenaeum 
to  the  domestic  shades  of  the  Temple,  would  often  leave 
behind  him  some  pungent  sentence  which  travelled  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  and  spared  neither  age  nor  sex  nor  friend- 
ship nor  affinity. 

The  very  highest  dignitaries  of  the  Church  in  London 
have  never,  in  my  experience,  contributed  very  largely  to  its 
social  life.  The  garden-parties  of  Fulham  and  Lambeth  are 
indeed  recognized  incidents  of  the  London  season ;  but 
they  present  to  the  critical  eye  less  the  aspect  of  a  social 
gathering  than  that  of  a  Church  Congress  combined  with 
a  Mothers'  Meeting.  The  overwhelming  disparity  between 
the  position  of  host  and  guests  is  painfully  apparent,  and 
that  "  drop-down-dead-ativeness "  of  manner  which  Sydney 
Smith  quizzed  still  characterizes  the  demeanour  of  the  un- 
beneficed clergy.  Archbishop  Tait,  whose  natural  stateliness 
of  aspect  and  manner  was  one  of  the  most  conspicuous 
qualifications  for  his  great  office,  was  a  dignified  and  hospit- 
able host ;  and  Archbishop  Thomson,  reinforced  by  a 
beautiful  and  charming  wife,  was  sometimes  spoken  of  as 
the  Archbishop  of  Society.  Archbishop  Benson  looked  the 
part  to  perfection,  but  did  not  take  much  share  in  general 
conversation,  though  I  remember  one  terse  saying  of  his 
in  which  the  odium  theologicum  supplied  the  place  of  wit. 
A  portrait  of  Cardinal  Manning  was  exhibited  at  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  I  remarked  to  the  Archbishop  on  the  extra- 
ordinary picturesqueness  of  the  Cardinal's  appearance. 
"  The  dress  is  very  effective,"  replied  the  Archbishop  dryly, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      165 

"  but  I   don't  think  there  is  much  besides."     "  Oh,  surely 
it  is  a  fine  head  ?  "     "  No,  not  a  fine  head  ;  only  no  face." 

Passing  down  through  the  ranks  of  the  hierarchy,  I  shall 
presently  have  something  to  say  about  two  or  three  metro- 
politan Canons  who  are  notable  figures  in  society ;  but 
before  I  come  to  them  I  must  offer  a  word  of  affectionate 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  Dr.  Liddon.  Probably  there  never 
was  a  man  whose  social  habit  and  manner  were  less  like 
what  a  mere  outsider  would  have  inferred  from  his  physical 
aspect  and  public  demeanour.  Nature  had  given  him  the 
outward  semblance  of  a  foreigner  and  an  ascetic  ;  a  life-long 
study  of  ecclesiastical  rhetoric  had  stamped  him  with  a 
mannerism  which  belongs  peculiarly  to  the  pulpit.  But 
the  true  inwardness  of  the  man  was  that  of  the  typical  John 
Bull — hearty,  natural,  full  of  humour,  utterly  free  from  self- 
consciousness.  He  had  a  healthy  appetite,  and  was  not 
ashamed  to  gratify  it ;  liked  a  good  glass  of  wine ;  was 
peculiarly  fond  of  sociable  company,  whether  as  host  or 
guest ;  and  told  an  amusing  story  with  incomparable  zest 
and  point.  His  verbal  felicity  was  a  marked  feature  of 
his  conversation.  His  description  of  Archbishop  Benson 
(revived,  with  strange  taste,  by  the  Saturday  Review  on  the 
occasion  of  the  Archbishop's  death)  was  a  masterpiece 
of  sarcastic  character-drawing.  The  judicious  Bishop 
Davidson  and  the  accomplished  Canon  Mason  were  the 
subjects  of  similar  pleasantries  ;  and  there  was  substantial 
truth  as  well  as  genuine  fun  in  his  letter  to  a  friend  written 
one  dark  Christmas  from  Amen  Court :  "  London  is  just  now 
buried  under  a  dense  fog.  This  is  commonly  attributed 
to  Dr.  Westcott  having  opened  his  study-window  at 
Westminster." 


XVIII. 

CLERGYMEl^— continued. 

/^F  the  **  Merriment  of  Parsons  "  one  of  the  most  con- 
^^  spicuous  instances  was  to  be  found  in  the  Rev. 
W.  H.  Brookfield,  the  "little  Frank  Whitestock "  of 
Thackeray's  Cura/e's  Walk,  and  the  subject  of  Lord  Tenny- 
son's characteristic  elegy : — 

"  Brooks,  for  they  called  you  so  that  knew  you  best — 
Old  Brooks,  who  loved  so  well  to  mouth  my  rhymes. 
How  oft  we  two  have  heard  St.  Mary's  chimes  I 
How  oft  the  Cantalj  supper  host,  and  guest. 
Would  echo  helpless  laughter  to  your  jest  ! 
*  «  i»  *  *  « 

You  man  of  humorous-melancholy  mark 
Dead  of  some  inwaid  ag(my — is  it  so? 
Our  kindlier,  trustier  Jaques,  past  away  I 
I  cannot  laud  this  life,  it  looks  so  dark  : 
S/ctSj  <li»o/3— dream  of  a  shadow,  go, — 
God  bless  you,     1  shall  join  you  ni  a  day." 

This  tribute  is  as  true  in  substance  as  it  is  striking  in 
phrase,  I  have  noticed  the  same  peculiarity  about  Mr. 
Brookficld's  humour  as  about  Jenny  Lind's  singing.  Those 
who  had  once  heard  it  were  always  eager  to  talk  about  it. 
Ask  some  elderly  man  about  the  early  triumphs  of  the 
Swedish  Nightingale,  and  notice  how  he  kindles.  "  Ah  ! 
Jenny  Lind !  Yes ;  there  was  never  anything  like  that ! " 
And  he  begins  about  the  Figiia,  and  how  she  came  along 
the  bridge  in  the  Sonnambula  ;  and  you  feci  the  tenderness 
in  his  tone,  as  of  a  positive  love  for  her  whose  voice  seems 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      167 

still  ringing  through  him  as  he  talks.  I  have  noticed 
exactly  the  same  phenomenon  when  people  who  knew 
Mr.  Brookfield  hear  his  name  mentioned  in  casual  con- 
versation. "  Ah  !  Ikookfield !  Yes ;  there  never  was  any 
one  quite  like  him ! "  And  off  they  go,  with  visible 
pleasure  and  genuine  emotion,  to  describe  the  inimitable 
charm,  the  touch  of  genius  which  brought  humorous  delight 
out  of  the  commonest  incidents,  the  tinge  of  brooding 
melancholy  which  threw  the  flashing  fun  into  such  high 
rolief. 

Not  soon  will  fade  from  the  memory  of  any  who  ever 
heard  it  the  history  of  the  examination  at  the  ladies'  school, 
where  Brookfield,  who  had  thought  that  he  was  only  expected 
to  examine  in  languages  and  literature,  found  himself  required 
to  set  a  paper  in  physical  science.  *'  What  was  I  to  do  ?  I 
know  nothing  about  hydrogen  or  oxygen  or  any  other  'gen.' 
So  I  set  them  a  paper  in  common  sense,  or  what  I  called 
*  Applied  Science.'  One  of  my  questions  was,  '  What 
would  you  do  to  cure  a  cold  in  the  head?'  One  young 
lady  answered,  *  I  should  put  mv  feet  in  hot  mustard  and 
water  till  you  were  in  a  profuse  perspiration.'  Another 
said,  *  I  should  put  him  to  bed,  give  him  a  soothing  drink, 
and  sit  by  him  till  he  was  better.'  But,  on  reconsideration, 
she  ran  her  pen  through  all  the  *  him's '  and  '  he's,'  and 
substituted  *  her '  and  *  she.'  " 

Mr.  Brookfield  was  during  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
a  hard-working  servant  of  the  public,  and  his  friends  could 
only  obtain  his  delightful  company  in  the  rare  and  scanty 
intervals  of  school-inspecting — a  profession  of  which  not 
even  the  leisure  is  leisurely.  The  type  of  the  French  abb^, 
whose  sacerdotal  avocations  lay  completely  in  the  back- 
ground and  who  could  give  the  best  hours  of  the  day  and 
night  to  the  pleasures  or  duties  of  society,  was  best  repre- 
sented in  our  day  by  the  Rev.  William  Harness  and  the 
Rev.  Henry  White.     Mr.  Harness  was  a  diner-out  of  the 


i68     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

first  water  ;  an  author  and  a  critic  ;  perhaps  the  best  Shake- 
spearean scholar  of  his  time;  and  a  recognized  and  even 
dreaded  authority  on  all  matters  connected  with  the  art  and 
literature  of  the  drama.  Mr.  White,  burdened  only  with 
the  sinecure  chaplaincies  of  the  Savoy  and  the  House  of 
Commons,  took  the  Theatre  as  his  parish,  mediated  with 
the  happiest  tact  between  the  Church  and  the  Stage,  and 
pronounced  a  genial  benediction  over  the  famous  suppers 
in  Stratton  Street  at  which  an  enthusiastic  patroness  used  to 
entertain  Sir  Henry  Irving  when  the  public  labours  of  the 
Lyceum  were  ended  for  the  night. 

Canon  Malcolm  MacCoU  is  an  abb^  with  a  difference. 
No  one  eats  his  dinner  more  sociably  or  tells  a  story  more 
aptly ;  no  one  enjoys  good  society  more  keenly  or  is  more 
appreciated  in  it ;  but  he  does  not  make  society  a  profession. 
He  is  conscientiously  devoted  to  the  duties  of  his  canonry ; 
he  is  an  accomplished  theologian ;  and  he  is  perhaps  the 
most  expert  and  vigorous  pamphleteer  in  England.  The 
Franco-German  War,  the  Athanasian  Creed,  the  Ritualistic 
prosecutions,  the  case  for  Home  Rule,  and  the  misdeeds  of 
the  Sultan  have  in  turn  produced  from  his  pen  pamphlets 
which  have  rushed  into  huge  circulations  and  swollen  to  the 
dimensions  of  solid  treatises.  Canon  MacColl  is  genuinely 
and  ex  animo  an  ecclesiastic ;  but  he  is  a  politician  as  well. 
His  inflexible  integrity  and  fine  sense  of  honour  have  enabled 
him  to  play,  with  credit  to  himself  and  advantage  to  the 
public,  the  rather  risky  part  of  the  Priest  in  Politics.  He  has 
been  trusted  alike  by  Lord  Salisbury  and  by  Mr.  Gladstone ; 
has  conducted  negotiations  of  great  pith  and  moment ;  and 
has  been  behind  the  scenes  of  some  historic  performances. 
Yet  he  has  never  made  an  enemy,  nor  betrayed  a  secret, 
nor  lowered  the  honour  of  his  sacred  calling. 

Miss  Mabel  Collins,  in  her  vivid  story  of  The  Star 
Sapphire,  has  drawn  under  a  very  thin  pseudonym  a  striking 
portrait  of  a  clergyman  who,  with  his  environment,  plays  a 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      169 

considerable  part  in  the  social  agreeableness  of  London  at 
the  present  moment.  Is  social  agreeableness  a  hereditary 
gift  ?  Nowadays,  when  everything,  good  or  bad,  is  referred 
to  heredity,  one  is  inclined  to  say  that  it  must  be;  and, 
though  no  training  could  supply  the  gift  where  Nature  had 
withheld  it,  yet  a  judicious  education  can  develop  a  social 
faculty  which  ancestry  has  transmitted.  It  is  recorded,  I 
think,  of  Madame  de  Stael,  that,  after  her  first  conversation 
with  William  Wilberforce,  she  said :  "  I  have  always  heard 
that  Mr.  Wilberforce  was  the  most  religious  man  in  England, 
but  I  did  not  know  that  he  was  also  the  wittiest."  The 
agreeableness  of  the  great  philanthropist's  son — Samuel 
Wilberforce,  Bishop  of  Oxford  and  of  Winchester — I  dis- 
cussed in  my  last  chapter.  We  may  put  aside  the  fulsome 
dithyrambics  of  grateful  archdeacons  and  promoted  chaplains, 
and  be  content  to  rest  the  Bishop's  reputation  for  agreeable- 
ness on  testimony  so  little  interested  as  that  of  Matthew 
Arnold  and  Archbishop  Tait.  The  Archbishop  wrote,  after 
the  Bishop's  death,  of  his  "  social  and  irresistibly  fascinating 
side,  as  displayed  in  his  dealings  with  society; "  and  in  1864 
Mr.  Arnold,  after  listening  with  only  very  moderate  admi- 
ration to  one  of  the  Bishop's  celebrated  sermons,  wrote: 
"  Where  he  was  excellent  was  in  his  speeches  at  luncheon 
afterwards — gay,  easy,  cordial,  and  wonderfully  happy." 

I  think  that  one  gathers  from  all  d^'spassionate  observers 
of  the  Bishop  that  what  struck  them  most  in  him  was  the 
blending  of  boisterous  fun  and  animal  spirits  with  a  deep 
and  abiding  sense  of  the  seriousness  of  religion.  In  the 
philanthropist-father  the  religious  seriousness  rather  pre- 
ponderated over  the  fun ;  in  the  bishop-son  (by  a  curious 
inversion  of  parts)  the  fun  sometimes  concealed  the  religious- 
ness. To  those  who  speculate  in  matters  of  race  and  pedi- 
gree it  is  interesting  to  watch  the  two  elements  contending 
in  the  character  of  Canon  Basil  Wilberforce,  the  Bishop's 
youngest  and  best-beloved  son.     When  you  see  his  graceful 

7 


lyo     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

figure  and  clean-shaven  ecclesiastical  face  in  the  pulpit  of 
his  strangely  old-fashioned  church,  or  catch  the  vibrating 
notes  of  his  beautifully  modulated  voice  in 

"  The  hush  of  our  dread  high  altar, 
Where  The  Abbey  makes  us  IVe," 

you  feel  yourself  in  the  presence  of  a  born  ecclesiastic,  called 
from  his  cradle  by  an  irresistible  vocation  to  a  separate  and 
sanctified  career.  When  you  see  him  on  the  platform  of 
some  great  public  meeting,  pouring  forth  argument,  appeal, 
sarcasm,  anecdote,  fun,  and  pathos  in  a  never-ceasing  flood 
of  vivid  English,  you  feel  that  you  are  under  the  spell  of  a 
born  orator.  And  yet  again,  when  you  see  the  priest  of 
Sunday,  the  orator  of  Monday,  presiding  on  Tuesday  with 
easy  yet  finished  courtesy  at  the  hospitable  table  of  the 
most  beautiful  dining-room  in  London,  or  welcomed  with 
equal  warmth  for  his  racy  humour  and  his  unfailing  sympathy 
in  the  homes  of  his  countless  friends,  you  feel  that  here 
is  a  man  naturally  framed  for  society,  in  whom  his  father 
and  grandfather  live  again.  Truly  a  combination  of  hered- 
itary gifts  is  displayed  in  Canon  Wilberforce;  and  the 
social  agreeableness  of  London  received  a  notable  addition 
when  Mr.  Gladstone  transferred  him  from  Southampton  to 
Dean's  Yard. 

Of  agreeable  Canons  there  is  no  end,  and  the  Chapter  of 
Westminster  is  peculiarly  rich  in  them.  Mr.  Gore's  ascetic 
saintliness  of  life  conceals  from  the  general  world,  but  not 
from  the  privileged  circle  of  his  intimate  friends,  the  high 
breeding  of  a  great  Whig  family  and  the  philosophy  of 
Balliol.  Archdeacon  Furse  has  the  refined  scholarship  and 
delicate  literary  sense  which  characterized  Eton  in  its  days 
of  glory.  Dr.  Duckworth's  handsome  presence  has  long 
been  welcomed  in  the  very  highest  of  all  social  circles. 
Mr.  Eyton's  massive  bulk  and  warm  heart,  and  rugged 
humour  and  sturdy  common  sense,  produce  the  effect  of  a 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      171 

clerical  Dr.  Johnson.  But  perhaps  we  must  turn  our  back 
on  the  Abbey  and  pursue  our  walk  along  the  Thames  Em- 
bankment as  far  as  St.  Paul's  if  we  want  to  discover  the  very 
finest  flower  of  canonical  culture  and  charm,  for  it  blushes 
unseen  in  the  shady  recesses  of  Amen  Court.  Henry  Scott 
Holland,  Canon  of  St.  Paul's,  is  beyond  all  question  one  of 
the  most  agreeable  men  of  his  time.  In  fun  and  geniality 
and  warm-hearted  hospitality  he  is  a  worthy  successor  of 
Sydney  Smith,  whose  official  house  he  inhabits;  and  to 
those  elements  of  agreeableness  he  adds  certain  others  which 
his  admirable  predecessor  could  scarcely  have  claimed.  He 
has  all  the  sensitiveness  of  genius,  with  its  sypipathy,  its 
versatility,  its  unexpected  turns,  its  rapid  transitions  from 
grave  to  gay,  its  vivid  appreciation  of  all  that  is  beautiful 
in  art  and  nature,  literature  and  life.  His  temperament 
is  essentially  musical,  and,  indeed,  it  was  from  him  that  I 
borrowed,  in  a  former  paragraph,  my  description  of  Jenny 
Lind  and  her  effect  on  her  hearers.  No  man  in  London, 
I  should  think,  has  so  many  and  such  devoted  friends  in 
every  class  and  stratum ;  and  those  friends  acknowledge  in 
him  not  only  the  most  vivacious  and  exhilarating  of  social 
companions,  but  one  of  the  moral  forces  which  have  done 
most  to  quicken  their  consciences  and  lift  their  lives. 

Before  I  have  done  with  the  agreeableness  of  clergymen  I 
must  say  a  word  about  two  academical  personages,  of  whom 
it  was  not  always  easy  to  remember  that  they  were  clergy- 
men, and  whose  agreeableness  struck  one  in  different  lights, 
according  as  one  happened  to  be  the  victim  or  the  witness 
of  their  jocosity.  If  any  one  wishes  to  know  what  the  late 
Master  of  Balliol  was  really  like  in  his  social  aspect,  I  should 
refer  him,  not  to  the  two  volumes  of  his  Biography,  nor  even 
to  the  amusing  chit-chat  of  Mr.  Lionel  ToUemache's  Recol- 
lections, but  to  the  cleverest  work  of  a  very  clever  Balliol 
man — Mr.  W.  H.  Mallock's  New  Republic.  The  description 
of  Mr.  Jowett's  appearance,  conversation,  and  social  bearing 


172      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

is  photographic,  and  the  sermon  which  Mr.  Mallock  puts 
into  his  mouth  is  not  a  parody,  but  an  absolutely  faultless 
reproduction  both  of  substance  and  of  style.  That  it  exces- 
sively irritated  the  subject  of  the  sketch  is  the  best  proof  of 
its  accuracy.  For  my  own  part,  I  must  freely  admit  that  I 
do  not  write  as  an  admirer  of  Mr.  Jowett ;  but  one  saying 
of  his,  which  I  had  the  advantage  of  hearing,  does  much  to 
atone,  in  my  judgment,  for  the  snappish  impertinences  on 
which  his  reputation  for  wit  has  been  generally  based.  The 
scene  was  the  Master's  own  dining-room,  and  the  moment 
that  the  ladies  had  left  the  room  one  of  the  guests  began  a 
most  outrageous  conversation.  Every  one  sat  flabbergasted. 
The  Master  winced  with  annoyance ;  and  then,  bending  down 
the  table  towards  the  offender,  said  in  his  shrillest  tone — 
"Shall we  continue  this  conversation  in  the  drawing-room?" 
and  rose  from  his  chair.  It  was  really  a  stroke  of  genius 
thus  both  to  terminate  and  to  rebuke  the  impropriety  without 
violating  the  decorum  due  from  host  to  guest. 

Of  the  late  Master  of  Trinity — Dr.  Thompson — it  was 
said :  "  He  casteth  forth  his  ice  like  morsels.  Who  is  able 
to  abide  his  frost?"  The  stories  of  his  mordant  wit  are 
endless,  but  an  Oxford  man  can  scarcely  hope  tc  narrate 
them  with  proper  accuracy.  He  was  nothing  if  not  critical. 
At  Seeley's  Inaugural  Lecture  as  Professor  of  History  his 
only  remark  was — "Well,  well.  I  did  not  think  we  could 
so  soon  have  had  occasion  to  regret  poor  Kingsley."  To  a 
gushing  admirer  who  said  that  a  popular  preacher  had  so 
much  taste — "  Oh  yes  ;  so  very  much,  and  all  so  very  bad." 
Of  a  certain  Dr.  Woods,  who  wrote  elementary  mathematical 
books  for-  schoolboys,  and  whose  statue  occupies  the  most 
conspicuous  position  in  the  ante-chapel  of  St.  John's  College 
— "The  Johnian  Newton."  His  hit  at  the  present  Chief 
Secretary  for  Ireland,*  when  he  was  a  junior  Fellow  of 
Trinity,  is  classical — "  We  are  none  of  us  infallible — not 
*  The  Right  Hon.  G.  W.  Balfour. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      173 

even  the  youngest  of  us."  But  it  requires  an  eye-witness  of 
the  scene  to  do  justice  to  the  exordium  of  the  Master's 
sermon  on  the  Parable  of  the  Talents,  addressed  in  Trinity 
Chapel  to  what  considers  itself,  and  not  without  justice,  the 
cleverest  congregation  in  the  world.  "  It  would  be  obviously 
superfluous  in  a  congregation  such  as  that  which  I  now 
address  to  expatiate  on  the  responsibilities  of  those  who  have 
five,  or  even  two,  talents.  I  shall  therefore  confine  my 
observations  to  the  more  ordinary  case  of  those  of  us  who 
have  one  talent." 


XIX. 

REPARTEE. 

T  ORD  BEACONSFIELD,  describing  Monsignore 
•^— '  Berwick  in  Lothair,  says  that  he  "  could  always, 
when  necessary,  sparkle  with  anecdote  or  blaze  with 
repartee."  The  former  performance  is  considerably  easier 
than  the  latter.  Indeed,  when  a  man  has  a  varied  experi- 
ence, a  retentive  memory,  and  a  sufficient  copiousness  of 
speech,  the  facility  of  story-telling  may  attain  the  character 
of  a  disease.  The  "sparkle"  evaporates  while  the  "anec- 
dote "  is  left.  But,  though  what  Mr.  Pinto  called  "  Anec- 
dotage  "  is  deplorable,  a  repartee  is  always  delightful ;  and, 
while  by  no  means  inclined  to  admit  the  general  inferiority 
of  contemporary  conversation  to  that  of  the  last  generation, 
I  am  disposed  to  think  that  in  the  art  of  repartee  our  pre- 
decessors excelled  us. 

If  this  is  true,  it  may  be  partly  due  to  the  greater  freedom 
of  an  age  when  well-bred  men  and  refined  women  spoke  their 
minds  with  an  uncompromising  plainness  which  would  now 
be  voted  intolerable.  I  have  said  that  the  old  Royal  Dukes 
were  distinguished  by  the  racy  vigour  of  their  conversation  ; 
and  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  afterwards  King  Ernest  of 
Hanover,  was  held  to  excel  all  his  brothers  in  this  respect. 
I  was  told  by  the  late  Sir  Charles  Wyke  that  he  was  once 
walking  with  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  along  Piccadilly  when 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester  (first  cousin  to  Cumberland,  and 
familiarly  known  as  "  Silly  Billy  ")  came  out  of  Gloucester 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   175 

House.  "  Duke  of  Gloucester,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  stop 
a  minute.  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  roared  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland.  Poor  Silly  Billy,  whom  nobody  ever  noticed, 
was  delighted  to  find  himself  thus  accosted,  and  ambled  up 
smiling.  "Who's  your  tailor?"  shouted  Cumberland. 
"Stultz,"  replied  Gloucester.  "Thank  you.  I  only  wanted 
to  know,  because,  whoever  he  is,  he  ought  to  be  avoided 
like  a  pestilence."     Exit  Silly  Billy. 

Of  this  inoffensive  but  not  brilliant  prince  (who,  by  the 
way,  was  Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Cambridge)  it  is 
related  that  once  at  a  levee  he  noticed  a  naval  friend  with  a 
much-tanned  face.  "  How  do,  Admiral  ?  Glad  to  see  you 
again.  It's  a  long  time  since  you  have  been  at  a  levde." 
"Yes,  sir.      Since  I  last  saw  your  Royal  Highness  I  have 

been  nearly  to  the  North  Pole."    *'  By  G ,  you  look  more 

as  if  you  had  been  to  the  South  Pole."  It  is  but  bare  justice 
to  this  depreciated  memory  to  observe  that  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  scored  a  point  against  his  kingly  cousin  when,  on 
hearing  that  William  IV.  had  consented  to  the  Reform  Bill, 
he  ejaculated,  "Who's  Silly  Billy  now?"  But  this  is  a 
digression. 

Early  in  the  nineteenth  century  a  famous  lady,  whose 
name,  for  obvious  reasons,  I  forbear  to  indicate  even  by  an 
initial,  had  inherited  great  wealth  under  a  will  which,  to  put 
it  mildly,  occasioned  much  surprise.  She  shared  an  opera- 
box  with  a  certain  Lady  D ,  who  loved  the  flowing  wine- 
cup  not  wisely,  but  too  well.     One  night  Lady  D was 

visibly  intoxicated  at  the  opera,  and  her  friend  told  her  that 
the  partnership  in  the  box  must  cease,  as  she  could  not 
appear  again  in  company  so  disgraceful.     "As  you  please," 

said  Lady  D .     "I  may  have  had  a  glass  of  wine  too 

much ;  but  at  any  rate  I  never  forged  my  father's  signature, 
and  then  murdered  the  butler  to  prevent  his  telling." 

Beau  Brummell,  the  Prince  of  Dandies  and  the  most 
insolent   of  men,  was  once  asked  by  a  lady  if  he  would 


176     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

"take  a  cup  of  tea."  "Thank  you,  ma'am,"  he  replied, 
"  I  never  take  anything  but  physic."  "  I  beg  your  pardon," 
replied  the  hostess,  "  you  also  take  liberties." 

The  Duchess  of  Somerset,  born  Sheridan,  and  famous  as 
the  Queen  of  Beauty  at  the  Eglinton  Tournament  of  1839, 
was  pre-eminent  in  this  agreeable  art  of  swift  response.  One 
day  she  called  at  a  shop  for  some  article  which  she  had 
purchased  the  day  before,  and  which  had  not  been  sent 
home.  The  order  could  not  be  traced.  The  proprietor 
of  the  establishment  inquired,  with  great  concern,  "  May 
I  ask  who  took  your  Grace's  order?  Was  it  a  young 
gentleman  with  fair  hair  ?  "  "  No ;  it  was  an  elderly  noble- 
man with  a  bald  head." 

The  celebrated  Lady  Clanricarde,  daughter  of  George 
Canning,  was  talking  during  the  Franco-German  War  of 
1870  to  the  French  Ambassador,  who  complained  bitterly 
that  England  had  not  intervened  on  behalf  of  France. 
"But,  after  all,"  he  said,  "it  was  only  what  we  might  have 
expected.  We  always  believed  that  you  were  a  nation  of 
shopkeepers,  and  now  we  know  you  are."  "And  we," 
replied  Lady  Clanricarde,  "always  believed  that  you  were 
a  nation  of  soldiers,  and  now  we  know  you  are  not " — a 
repartee  worthy  to  rank  with  Queen  Mary's  reply  to  Lady 
Lochleven  about  the  sacramental  character  of  marriage,  in 
the  .third  volume  of  The  Abbot. 

A  young  lady,  who  had  just  been  appointed  a  Maid  of 
Honour,  was  telling  some  friends  with  whom  she  was  dining 
that  one  of  the  conditions  of  the  office  was  that  she  should 
not  keep  a  diary  of  what  went  on  at  Court.  A  cynical  man 
of  the  world  who  was  present  said,  "  What  a  tiresome  rule ! 
I  think  I  should  keep  my  diary  all  the  same."  "  Then," 
replied  the  young  lady,  "  I  am  afraid  you  would  not  be  a 
maid  of  Honour^ 

In  the  famous  society  of  old  Holland  House  a  con- 
spicuous and  interesting  figure  was  Henry  Luttrell.     It  was 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      177 

known  that  he  must  be  getting  on  in  life,  for  he  had  sat  in 
the  Irish  Parliament,  but  his  precise  age  no  one  knew.  At 
length  Lady  Holland,  whose  curiosity  was  restrained  by  no 
considerations  of  courtesy,  asked  him  point-blank — "  Now, 
Luttrell,  we're  all  dying  to  know  how  old  you  are.  Just  tell 
me."  Eyeing  his  questioner  gravely,  Luttrell  made  answer, 
"  It  is  an  odd  question  ;  but  as  you,  Lady  Holland,  ask  it, 
I  don't  mind  telling  you.  If  I  live  till  next  year,  I  shall  be 
— devilish  old." 

For  the  mutual  amenities  of  Melbourne  and  Alvanley  and 
Rogers  and  Allen,  for  Lord  Holland's  genial  humour,  and 
for  Lady  Holland's  indiscriminate  insolence,  we  can  refer  to 
Lord  Macaulay's  Life  and  Charles  Greville's  Journals,  and 
the  enormous  mass  of  contemporary  memoirs.  Most  of 
these  verbal  encounters  were  fought  with  all  imaginable 
good-humour,  over  some  social  or  literary  topic ;  but  now 
and  then,  when  political  passion  was  really  roused,  they  took 
a  fiercely  personal  tone. 

Let  one  instance  of  elaborate  invective  suffice.  Sir  James 
Mackintosh,  who,  as  the  writer  of  the  Vindicice  GalHccB,  had 
been  the  foremost  apologist  for  the  French  Revolution,  fell 
later  under  the  influence  of  Burke^and  proclaimed  the  most 
unmeasured  hostility  to  tlTi^"Revolution  and  its  authors, 
their  works  and  ways.  Having  thus  become  a  vehement 
champion  of  law  and  order,  he  exclaimed  one  day  that 
O'Coighley,  the  priest  who  negotiated  between  the  Revo- 
lutionary parties  in  Ireland  and  France,  was  the  basest  of 
mankind.  "  No,  Mackintosh,"  replied  that  sound  though 
pedantic  old  Whig,  Dr.  Parr;  "he  might  have  been  much 
worse.  He  was  an  Irishman  ;  he  might  have  been  a  Scots- 
man. He  was  a  priest ;  he  might  have  been  a  lawyer.  He 
was  a  rebel ;  he  might  have  been  a  renegade." 

These  severe  forms  of  elaborated  sarcasm  belong,  I  think, 
to  a  past  age.  Lord  Beaconsfield  was  the  last  man  who 
indulged  in  them.     When  the  Greville  Memoirs — that  mine 


178     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  social  information  in  which  I  have  so  often  quarried — 
came  out,  some  one  asked  Mr.  Disraeli,  as  he  then  was, 
if  he  had  read  them.  He  replied,  "  No.  I  do  not  feel 
attracted  to  them.  I  remember  the  author,  and  he  was  the 
most  conceited  person  with  whom  I  have  ever  been  brought 
in  contact,  although  I  have  read  Cicero  and  known  Bulwer 
Lytton."  This  three-edged  compliment  has  seldom  been 
excelled.  In  a  lighter  style,  and  more  accordant  with 
feminine  grace,  was  Lady  Morley's  comment  on  the  decay- 
ing charms  of  her  famous  rival.  Lady  Jersey — the  Zenobia 
of  Endymion — of  whom  some  gushing  admirer  had  said 
that  she  looked  so  splendid  going  to  court  in  her  mourning 
array  of  black  and  diamonds — "it  was  like  night."  "Yes, 
my  dear;  minuit  passe."  A  masculine  analogue  to  this 
amiable  compliment  may  be  cited  from  the  table-talk 
of  Lord  Granville  —  certainly  not  an  unkindly  man  —  to 
whom  the  late  Mr.  Delane  had  been  complaining  of  the 
difficulty  of  finding  a  suitable  wedding-present  for  a  young 
lady  of  the  house  of  Rothschild.  "  It  would  be  absurd  to 
give  a  Rothschild  a  costly  gift.  I  should  like  to  find 
something  not  intrinsically  valuable,  but  interesting  because 
it  is  rare."  "  Nothing  easier,  my  dear  fellow ;  send  her  a 
lock  of  your  hair." 

When  a  remote  cousin  of  Lord  Henniker  was  elected  to 
the  Head  Mastership  of  Rossall,  a  disappointed  competitor 
said  that  it  was  a  case  of  eVcKa  tov  Kvplov ;  but  a  Greek  joke 
is  scarcely  fair  play. 

When  the  New  Review  was  started,  its  accomplished 
Editor  designed  it  to  be  an  inexpensive  copy  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century.  It  was  to  cost  only  sixpence,  and  was  to  be 
written  by  bearers  of  famous  names — those  of  the  British 
aristocracy  for  choice.  He  was  complaining  in  society  of 
the  difficulty  of  finding  a  suitable  title,  when  a  vivacious 
lady  said,  "  We  have  got  Cornhill,  and  Ludgate,  and  Strand 
— why  not  call  yours  Cheapside  ?  " 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      179 

Oxford  has  always  been  a  nursing-mother  of  polished 
satirists.  Of  a  small  sprig  of  aristocracy,  who  was  an 
undergraduate  in  my  time,  it  was  said  by  a  friend  that  he 
was  like  Euclid's  definition  of  a  point :  he  had  no  parts  and 
no  magnitude,  but  had  position.  In  previous  chapters  I 
have  quoted  the  late  Master  of  Balliol  and  Lord  Sherbrooke. 
Professor  Thorold  Rogers  excelled  in  a  Shandean  vein. 
Lord  Bowen  is  immortalized  by  his  emendation  to  the 
Judge's  address  to  the  Queen,  which  had  contained  the 
Heep-like  sentence — "  Conscious  as  we  are  of  our  own 
unworthiness  for  the  great  office  to  which  we  have  been 
called."  "Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  say,  'Conscious  as  we 
are  of  one  another's  unworthiness '  ? "  Henry  Smith, 
Professor  of  Geometry,  the  wittiest,  most  learned,  and  most 
genial  of  Irishmen,  said  of  a  well-known  man  of  science — 
"  His  only  fault  is  that  he  sometimes  forgets  that  he  is  the 
Editor,  not  the  Author,  of  Nature."  A  great  lawyer  who  is 
now  a  great  judge,  and  has,  with  good  reason,  the  very 
highest  opinion  of  himself,  stood  as  a  Liberal  at  the  General 
Election  of  1880.  His  Tory  opponents  set  on  foot  a 
rumour  that  he  was  an  Atheist,   and  when  Henry  Smith 

heard  it  he  said,  "  Now,  that's  really  too  bad,  for is 

a   man   who   reluctantly   acknowledges  the  existence  of  a 
Superior  Being." 

At  dinner  at  Balliol  the  Master's  guests  were  discussing  the 
careers  of  two  Balliol  men,  the  one  of  whom  had  just  been 
made  a  judge  and  the  other  a  bishop.     "Oh,"  said  Henry 
Smith,  "I  think  the  bishop  is  the  greater  man.     A  judge,    s/ 
at  the  most,  can  only  say,  'You  be  hanged,'  but  a  bishop  TV- 
can  say,  '  You  be  d— — d.' "     "  Yes,"  twittered  the  Master ;  1 
"but  if  the  judge  says,  '  You  be  hanged,'  you  are  hanged." 

Henry  Smith,  though  a  delightful  companion,  was  a  very 
unsatisfactory  politician — nominally,  indeed,  a  Liberal,  but 
full  of  qualifications  and  exceptions.  When  Mr.  Gathome 
Hardy  was  raised  to  the  peerage  at  the  crisis  of  the  Eastern 


i8o      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Question  in  1878,  and  thereby  vacated  his  seat  for  the 
University  of  Oxford,  Henry  Smith  came  forward  as  a 
candidate  in  the  Liberal  interest ;  but  his  language  about 
the  great  controversy  of  the  moment  was  so  lukewarm  that 
Professor  Freeman  said  that,  instead  of  sitting  for  Oxford  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  he  ought  to  represent  Laodicea 
in  the  Parliament  of  Asia  Minor. 

Of  Dr.  Haig- Brown  it  is  reported  that,  when  Head  Master 
of  Charterhouse,  he  was  toasted  by  the  Mayor  of  Godalming 
as  a  man  who  knew  how  to  combine  the  fortiter  in  re  with 
the  suaviter  in  niodo.  In  replying  to  the  toast  he  said,  "  I 
am  really  overwhelmed  not  only  by  the  quality,  but  by  the 
quantity  of  his  Worship's  eulogium." 

It  has  been  a  matter  of  frequent  remark  that,  considering 
what  an  immense  proportion  of  parliamentary  time  has  been 
engrossed  during  the  last  seventeen  years  by  Irish  speeches, 
we  have  heard  so  little  Irish  humour,  whether  conscious 
or  unconscious — whether  jokes  or  "bulls."  An  admirably 
vigorous  simile  was  used  by  the  late  Mr.  O'Sullivan,  when 
he  complained  that  the  whisky  supplied  at  the  bar  was  like 
"  a  torchlight  procession  marching  down  your  throat ;  "  but 
of  Irish  bulls  in  Parliament  I  have  only  heard  one — pro- 
ceeding, if  my  memory  serves  me,  from  Mr.  T.  Healy : 
"  As  long  as  the  voice  of  Irish  suffering  is  dumb,  the  ear 
of  English  compassion  is  deaf  to  it."  One  I  read  in  the 
columns  of  the  Irish  Times  :  "  The  key  of  the  Irish  difficulty 
is  to  be  found  in  the  empty  pocket  of  the  landlord."  An 
excellent  confusion  of  metaphors  was  uttered  by  one  of  the 
members  for  the  Principality  in  the  debate  on  the  Welsh 
Church  Bill,  in  indignant  protest  against  the  allegation  that 
the  majority  of  Welshmen  now  belonged  to  the  Established 
Church.  He  said,  "  It  is  a  lie,  sir ;  and  it  is  high  time 
that  we  nailed  this  lie  to  the  mast."  But  a  confusion  of 
metaphors  is  not  a  bull. 

Among  tellers  of  Irish  stories,  Lord  Morris  is  supreme; 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      181 

one  of  his  best  depicts  two  Irish  officials  of  the  good  old 
times  discussing,  in  all  the  confidence  of  their  after-dinner 
claret,  the  principles  on  which  they  bestowed  their  patronage. 
Said  the  first,  "Well,  I  don't  mind  admitting  that,  ccBteris 
paribus,  I  prefer  my  own  relations."  "  My  dear  boy,"  replied 
his  boon  companion,  ^^  cceteris  paribus  be  d — d."  The 
cleverest  thing  that  I  have  lately  heard  was  from  a  young 
lady,  who  is  an  Irishwoman,  and  I  hope  that  its  excellence 
will  excuse  the  personality.  It  must  be  premised  that  Lord 
Erne  is  a  gentleman  who  abounds  in  anecdote,  and  that 
Lady  Erne  is  an  extremely  handsome  woman.  Their  irreve- 
rent compatriot  has  nicknamed  them 

"  The  storied  Erne  and  animated  bust." 

Frances  Countess'  Waldegrave,  who  had  previously  been 
married  three  times,  took  as  her  fourth  husband  an  Irishman, 
Mr.  Chichester  Fortescue,  who  was  shortly  afterwards  made 
Chief  Secretary.  The  first  night  that  Lady  Waldegrave  and 
Mr.  Fortescue  appeared  at  the  theatre  in  Dublin,  a  wag  in 
the  gallery  called  out,  "  Which  of  the  four  do  you  like  best, 
my  lady  ?  "  Instantaneously  from  the  Chief  Secretary's  box 
came  the  adroit  reply  :  "  Why,  the  Irishman,  of  course  !  " 

The  late  Lord  Coleridge  was  once  speaking  in  the  House 
of  Commons  in  support  of  Women's  Rights.  One  of  his 
main  arguments  was  that  there  was  no  essential  difference 
between  the  masculine  and  the  feminine  intellect.  For 
example,  he  said,  some  of  the  most  valuable  qualities  of 
what  is  called  the  judicial  genius — sensibility,  quickness, 
delicacy — are  peculiarly  feminine.  In  reply,  Serjeant  Dowse 
said:  "The  argument  of  the  hon.  and  learned  Member, 
compendiously  stated,  amounts  to  this — because  some  judges 
are  old  women,  therefore  all  old  women  are  fit  to  be  judges." 

To  my  friend  Mr.  Julian  Sturgis,  himself  one  of  the 
happiest  of  phrase-makers,  I  am  indebted  for  the  following 
gems  from  America. 


i82      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Mr.  Evarts,  formerly  Secretary  of  State,  showed  an  English 
friend  the  place  where  Washington  was  said  to  have  thrown 
a  dollar  across  the  Potomac.  The  English  friend  expressed 
surprise ;  "  but,"  said  Mr.  Evarts,  "  you  must  remembei 
that  a  dollar  went  further  in  those  days."  A  Senator  met 
Mr.  Evarts  next  day,  and  said  that  he  had  been  amused  by 
his  jest.  "  But,"  said  Mr.  Evarts,  "  I  met  a  mere  journalist 
just  afterwards  who  said,  *  Oh,  Mr.  Evarts,  you  should  have 
said  that  it  was  a  small  matter  to  throw  a  dollar  across  the 
Potomac  for  a  man  who  had  chucked  a  sovereign  across 
the  Atlantic.'"  Mr.  Evarts,  weary  of  making  many  jokes, 
would  invent  a  journalist  or  other  man  and  tell  a  story 
as  his.  It  was  he  who,  on  a  kindly  busybody  expressing 
surprise  at  his  daring  to  drink  so  many  different  wines  at 
dinner,  said  that  it  was  only  the  indifferent  wines  of  which 
he  was  afraid. 

It  was  Mr.  Motley  who  said  in  Boston — "  Give  me  the 
luxuries  of  life,  and  I  care  not  who  has  the  necessaries." 

Mr.  Tom  Appleton,  famous  for  many  witty  sayings  (among 
them  the  well-known  "  Good  Americans,  when  they  die,  go 
to  Paris"),  heard  some  grave  city  fathers  debating  what 
could  be  done  to  mitigate  the  cruel  east  wind  at  an  exposed 
corner  of  a  certain  street  in  Boston.  He  suggested  that 
they  should  tether  a  shorn  lamb  there. 

A  witty  Bostonian  going  to  dine  with  a  lady  was  met  by 
her  with  a  face  of  apology.  "  I  could  not  get  another  man," 
she  said;  "and  we  are  four  women,  and  you  will  have  to 
take  us  all  in  to  dinner."  "  Fore-warned  is  four-armed," 
said  he  with  a  bow. 

This  gentleman  was  in  a  hotel  in  Boston  when  the  law 
forbidding  the  sale  of  liquor  was  in  force.  "  What  would 
you  say,"  said  an  angry  Bostonian,  "  if  a  man  from  St.  Louis, 
where  they  have  freedom,  were  to  come  in  and  ask  you 
where  he  could  get  a  drink  ? "  Now  it  was  known  that 
spirits  could  be  clandestinely  bought  in  a  room  under  the 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.       183 

roof,  and  the  wit  pointing  upwards  replied,  "  I  should  say, 
'  Fils  de  St.  Louis,  montez  au  ciel.' " 

Madame  Apponyi  was  in  London  during  the  debates  on 
the  Reform  Bill  of  1867,  and,  Uke  all  foreigners  and  not  a  few 
Englishmen,  was  much  perplexed  by  the  "  Compound  House- 
holder," who  figured  so  largely  in  the  discussion.  Hayward 
explained  that  he  was  the  Masculine  of  theFemme  Incomprise. 

One  of  the  best  repartees  ever  made,  because  the  briefest 
and  the  justest,  was  made  by  "  the  gorgeous  Lady  Blessing- 
ton  "  to  Napoleon  III.     When  Prince  Louis  Napoleon  was 
living   in   impecunious   exile   in    London   he   had   been  a 
constant  guest  at  Lady  Blessington's  hospitable  and  brilliant 
but  Bohemian  house.     And  she,  when  visiting  Paris  after 
the  coup  d'etat,  naturally  expected  to  receive  at  the  Tuileries 
some  return  for  the  unbounded  hospitalities  of  Gore  House. 
Weeks  passed,  no  invitation  arrived,  and  the  Imperial  Court 
took  no  notice  of  Lady  Blessington's  presence.     At  length 
she  encountered  the  Emperor  at  a  great  reception.     As  he  / 
passed  through  the  bowing  and  curtsying  crowd,  the  Em-  / 
peror  caught  sight   of  his   former  hostess.      "  Ah,    Miladi  / 
Blessington  !     Restez-vous  longternps  h.  Paris  ?  "     "  Et  vous,  f 
Sire  ?  "     History  does  not  record  the  usurper's  reply.  *■ 

Henry  Phillpotts,  Bishop  of  Exeter  from  1830  to  1869, 
lived  at  a  beautiful  villa  near  Torquay,  and  an  enthusiastic 
lady  who  visited  him  there  burst  into  dithyrambics  and 
cried,  "  What  a  lovely  spot  this  is.  Bishop  !  It  is  so  Swiss." 
"Yes,  ma'am,"  blandly  replied  old  Harry  of  Exeter,  "it  is 
very  Swiss ;  only  there  is  no  sea  in  Switzerland,  and  there 
are  no  mountains  here."  To  one  of  his  clergy  desiring  to 
renew  a  lease  of  some  episcopal  property,  the  Bishop  named 
a  preposterous  sum  as  the  fine  on  renewal.  The  poor  parson, 
consenting  with  reluctance,  said,  "  Well,  I  suppose  it  is  better 
than  endangering  the  lease,  but  certainly  your  lordship  has 
got  the  lion's  share."  "  But,  my  dear  sir,  I  am  sure  you 
would  not  wish  me  to  have  that  of  the  other  creature.'' 


iS4      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Still,  after  all,  for  a  bishop  to  score  off  a  clergyman  is  an 
inglorious  victory ;  it  is  like  the  triumph  of  a  magistrate  over 
a  prisoner  or  of  a  don  over  an  undergraduate.  Bishop 
Wilberforce,  whose  powers  of  repartee  were  among  his 
most  conspicuous  gifts,  was  always  ready  to  use  them  where 
retaliation  was  possible — not  in  the  safe  enclosure  of  the 
episcopal  study,  but  on  the  open  battlefield  of  the  platform 
and  the  House  of  Lords.  At  the  great  meeting  in  St.  James's 
Hall  in  the  summer  of  1868  to  protest  against  the  Disestab- 
lishment of  the  Irish  Church,  some  Orange  enthusiast,  in  the 
hope  of  disturbing  the  Bishop,  kept  interrupting  his  honeyed 
eloquence  with  inopportune  shouts  of  "  Speak  up,  my  lord." 
"  I  am  already  speaking  up,"  replied  the  Bishop  in  his  most 
dulcet  tone ;  "  I  always  speak  up ;  and  I  decline  to  speak 
down  to  the  level  of  the  ill-mannered  person  in  the  gallery." 
Every  one  whose  memory  runs  back  thirty  years  will  recall 
the  Homeric  encounters  between  the  Bishop  and  Lord 
Chancellor  Westbury  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  will 
remember  the  melancholy  circumstances  under  which 
Lord  Westbury  had  to  resign  his  office.  When  he  was 
leaving  the  Royal  Closet  after  surrendering  the  Great  Seal 
into  the  Queen's  hands.  Lord  Westbury  met  the  Bishop,  who 
was  going  in  to  the  Queen.  It  was  a  painful  encounter,  and 
in  reminding  the  Bishop  of  the  occurrence  when  next  they 
met,  Westbury  said,  "  I  felt  inclined  to  say,  '  Hast  thou 
found  me,  O  mine  enemy  ? '  "  The  Bishop  in  relating  this 
used  to  say,  "  I  never  in  my  life  was  so  tempted  as  to  finish 
the  quotation,  and  say,  'Yea,  I  have  found  thee,  because 
thou  hast  sold  thyself  to  work  iniquity.'  But  by  a  great 
effort  I  kept  it  down,  and  said,  *  Does  your  lordship  re- 
member the  end  of  the  quotation  ? ' "  The  Bishop,  who 
enjoyed  a  laugh  against  himself,  used  to  say  that  he  had 
once  been  effectually  scored  off  by  one  of  his  clergy  whom 
he  had  rebuked  for  his  addiction  to  fox-hunting.  The 
Bishop  urged  that  it  had  a  worldly  appearance.    The  clergy- 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.  r8^ 

man  replied  that  it  was  not  a  bit  more  worldly  than  a  ball  at 
Blenheim  Palace  at  which  the  Bishop  had  been  present. 
The  Bishop  explained  that  he  was  staying  in  the  house,  but 
was  never  within  three  rooms  of  the  dancing.  "  Oh,  if  it 
comes  to  that,"  replied  the  clergyman,  "  I  never  am  within 
three  fields  of  the  hounds." 

One  of  the  best  replies — it  is  scarcely  a  repartee — tradi- 
tionally  reported  at  Oxford  was  made  by  the  great  Saint  of 
the  Tractarian  Movement,*  the  Rev.  Charles  Marriott.  A 
brother- Fellow  of  Oriel  had  behaved  rather  outrageously  at 
dinner  overnight,  and  coming  out  of  chapel  next  morning, 
essayed  to  apologize  to  Marriott :  "  My  friend,  I'm  afraid  I 
made  rather  a  fool  of  myself  last  night."  "  My  dear  fellow, 
I  assure  you  I  observed  nothing  unusual." 

In  a  former  chapter  about  the  Art  of  Conversation  I 
referred  to  the  singular  readiness  which  characterized  Lord 
Sherbrooke's  talk.  A  good  instance  of  it  was  his  reply  to 
the  strenuous  advocate  of  modern  studies,  who,  presuming 
on  Sherbrooke's  sympathy,  said,  "  I  have  the  greatest  con- 
tempt for  Aristotle."  "But  not  that  contempt  which  famili- 
arity breeds,  I  should  imagine,"  was  Sherbrooke's  mild 
rejoinder.  "  I  have  got  a  box  at  the  Lyceum  to-night,"  I 
once  heard  a  lady  say,  "  and  a  place  to  spare.  Lord  Sher- 
brooke,  will  you  come?  If  you  are  engaged,  I  must  take 
the  Bishop  of  Gibraltar."  "  Oh,  that's  no  good.  Gibraltar 
can  never  be  taken," 

•  In  1872,  when  University  College,  Oxford,  celebrated 
the  thousandth  anniversary  of  its  foundation,  Lord  Sher- 
brooke,  as  an  old  Member  of  the  College,  made  the  speech 
of  the  evening.  His  theme  was  a  complaint  of  the  icono- 
clastic tendency  of  New  Historians.  Nothing  was  safe 
from  their  sacrilegious  research.  Every  tradition,  however 
venerable,  however  precious,  was  resolved  into  a  myth  or  a 
fable.  "  For  example,"  he  said,  "  we  have  always  believed 
that  certain  lands  which  this  college  owns  in  Berkshire  were 


i86      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

given  to  us  by  King  Alfred.  Now  the  New  Historians 
come  and  tell  us  that  this  could  not  have  been  the  case, 
because  they  can  prove  that  the  lands  in  question  never 
belonged  to  the  King.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  New  His- 
torians prove  too  much — indeed,  they  prove  the  very  point 
which  they  contest.  If  the  lands  had  belonged  to  the  King, 
he  would  probably  have  kept  them  to  himself ;  but  as  they 
belonged  to  some  one  else,  he  made  a  handsome  present  of 
them  to  the  College." 

Lord  Beaconsfield's  excellence  in  conversation  lay  rather 
in  studied  epigrams  than  in  impromptu  repartees.  But  in  his 
old  electioneering  contests  he  used  sometimes  to  make  very 
happy  hits.  When  he  came  forward,  a  young,  penniless, 
unknown  coxcomb,  to  contest  High  Wycombe  against  the 
dominating  Whiggery  of  the  Greys  and  the  Carringtons, 
some  one  in  the  crowd  shouted,  *'  We  know  all  about  Colonel 
Grey;  but  pray  what  do  you  stand  on?"  "I  stand  on  my 
head,"  was  the  prompt  reply,  to  which  Mr.  Gladstone  always 
rendered  unstinted  admiration.  At  Aylesbury  the  Radical 
leader  had  been  a  man  of  notoriously  profligate  life,  and 
when  Mr.  Disraeli  came  to  seek  re-election  as  Tory  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer  this  tribune  of  the  people  produced 
at  the  hustings  the  Radical  manifesto  which  Mr.  Disraeli 
had  issued  twenty  years  before.  "  What  do  you  say  to  that, 
sir?  "  "  I  say  that  we  all  sow  our  wild  oats,  and  no  one  knows 
the  meaning  of  that  phrase  better  than  you,  Mr. ." 

A  member  of  the  diplomatic  service  at  Rome  in  the  old 
days  of  the  Temporal  Power  had  the  honour  of  an  interview 
with  Pio  Nono.  The  Pope  graciously  offered  him  a  cigar — 
"  I  am  told  you  will  find  this  very  fine."  The  Englishman 
made  that  stupidest  of  all  answers,  "  Thank  your  Holiness, 
but  I  have  no  vices."  "This  isn't  a  vice;  if  it  was  you 
would  have  it."  Another  repartee  from  the  Vatican  reached 
me  a  few  years  ago,  when  the  German  Emperor  paid  his 
visit  to  Leo  XIII.     Count  Herbert  Bismarck  was  in  attend- 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      187 

ance  on  his  Imperial  master,  and  when  they  reached  the 
door  of  the  Pope's  audience-chamber  the  Emperor  passed 
in,  and  the  Count  tried  to  follow,  A  gentleman  of  the 
Papal  Court  motioned  him  to  stand  back,  as  there  must  be 
no  third  person  at  the  interview  between  the  Pope  and  the 
Emperor.  "  I  am  Count  Herbert  Bismarck,"  shouted  the 
German,  as  he  struggled  to  follow  his  master.  "That," 
replied  the  Roman,  with  calm  dignity,  "  may  accouriFTor, 
but  it  does  not  excuse,  your  conduct."  ~  ' 

"^  But,  after  all  these  "  fash'nable  fax  and  polite  annygoats," 
as  Thackeray  would  have  called  them,  after  all  these  engag- 
ing courtesies  of  kings  and  prelates  and  great  ladies,  I  think 
that  the  honours  in  the  way  of  repartee  rest  with  the  little 
Harrow  boy  who  was  shouting  himself  hoarse  in  the  jubila- 
tion of  victory  after  an  Eton  and  Harrow  match  at  Lord's  in 
which  Harrow  had  it  hollow.  To  him  an  Eton  boy,  of  cor- 
responding years,  severely  observed,  "  Well,  you  Harrow 
fellows  needn't  be  so  beastly  cocky.  When  you  wanted  a 
Head  Master  you  had  to  come  to  Eton  to  get  one."  The 
small  Harrovian  was  dumfounded  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
pulling  himself  together  for  a  final  effort  of  deadly  sarcasm, 
exclaimed,  "  Well,  at  any  rate,  no  one  can  say  that  we  ever 
produced  a  Mr.  Gladstone." 


XX. 

TITLES. 

HTHE  List  of  Honours,  usually  published  on  Her  Majesty's 
-*-  Birthday,  is  this  year  *  reserved  till  the  Jubilee  Day, 
and  to  sanguine  aspirants  I  would  say,  in  Mrs.  Gamp's 
immortal  words,  "  Seek  not  to  proticipate."  Such  a  list 
always  contains  food  for  the  reflective  mind,  and  some  of 
the  thoughts  which  it  suggests  may  even  lie  too  deep  for 
tears.  Why  is  my  namesake  picked  out  for  knighthood, 
while  I  remain  hidden  in  my  native  obscurity  ?  Why  is  my 
rival  made  a  C.B.,  while  I  "go  forth  Companionless  "  to  meet 
the  chances  and  the  vexations  of  another  year?  But  there 
is  balm  in  Gilead.  If  I  have  fared  badly,  my  friends  have 
done  little  better.  Like  Mr.  Squeers,  when  Bolder's  father  was 
two  pound  ten  short,  they  have  had  their  disappointments  to 
contend  against.  A.,  who  wa,s  so  confident  of  a  peerage,  is 
fobbed  off  with  a  baronetcy ;  and  B.,  whose  labours  for  the 
Primrose  League  entitled  him  to  expect  the  Bath,  finds 
himself  grouped  with  the  Queen's  footmen  in  the  Royal 
Victorian  Order.  As,  when  Sir  Robert  Peel  declined  to 
form  a  Government  in  1839,  "  twenty  gentlemen  who  had 
not  been  appointed  Under  Secretaries  for  State  moaned  over 
the  martyrdom  of  young  ambition,"  so  during  the  first  fort- 
night of  1897  at  least  that  number  of  middle-aged  self- 
seekers  came  to  the  regretful  conclusion  that  Lord  Salisbury 

*  1897. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      189 

was  not  sufficiently  a  man  of  the  world  for  his  present  posi- 
tion, and  inwardly  asked  why  a  judge  or  a  surgeon  should  be 
preferred  before  a  company-promoter  or  a  party  hack.  And, 
while  feeling  is  thus  fermenting  at  the  base  of  the  social 
edifice,  things  are  not  really  tranquil  at  the  summit. 

It  is  not  long  since  the  chief  of  the  princely  House  of 
Duff  was  raised  to  the  first  order  of  the  peerage,  and  one 
or  two  opulent  earls,  encouraged  by  his  example,  are  under- 
stood to  be  looking  upward.  Every  constitutional  Briton, 
whatever  his  political  creed,  has  in  his  heart  of  hearts  a 
wholesome  reverence  for  a  dukedom.  Lord  Beaconsfield, 
who  understood  these  little  traits  of  our  national  character 
even  more  perfectly  than  Thackeray,  says  of  his  favourite 
St.  Aldegonde  (who  was  heir  to  the  richest  dukedom  in  the 
kingdom)  that  "he  held  extreme  opinions,  especially  on 
political  affairs,  being  a  Republican  of  the  reddest  dye. 
He  was  opposed  to  all  privilege,  and  indeed  to  all  orders 
of  men  except  dukes,  who  were  a  necessity."  That  is 
a  delicious  touch.  St.  Aldegonde,  whatever  his  political 
aberrations,  "  voiced "  the  universal  sentiment  of  his  less 
fortunate  fellow-citizens ;  nor  can  the  most  soaring  ambition 
of  the  British  Matron  desire  a  nobler  epitaph  than  that  of 
the  lady  immortalized  by  Thomas  Ingoldsby : — 

"  She  drank  prussic  acid  without  any  water, 
And  died  like  a  Duke-anJ-a-Duchess's  daughter." 

As,  according  to  Dr.  Johnson,  all  claret  would  be  port 
if  it  could,  so,  presumably,  every  marquis  would  like  to  be 
a  duke ;  and  yet,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  Elysian  translation 
is  not  often  made.  A  marquis,  properly  regarded,  is  not 
so  much  a  nascent  duke  as  a  magnified  earl.  A  shrewd 
observer  of  the  world  once  said  to  me  :  "  When  an  earl 
gets  a  marquisate,  it  is  worth  a  hundred  thousand  pounds 
in  hard  money  to  his  family."  The  explanation  of  this 
cryptic  utterance  is  that,  whereas  an  earl's  younger  sons  are 


IQO      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

"misters,"  a  marquis's  younger  sons  are  "lords."  Each 
**  my  lord  "  can  make  a  "  my  lady,"  and  therefore  commands 
a  distinctly  higher  price  in  the  marriage-market  of  a  whole- 
somely-minded community.  Miss  Higgs,  witii  her  fifty 
thousand  pounds,  might  scorn  the  notion  of  becoming  the 
Honourable  Mrs.  Percy  Popjoy ;  but  as  Lady  Magnus 
Charters  she  would  feel  a  laudable  ambition  gratified. 

An  earldom  is,  in  its  combination  of  euphony,  antiquity, 
and  association,  perhaps  the  most  impressive  of  all  the  titles 
in  the  peerage.  Most  rightly  did  the  fourteenth  Earl  of 
Derby  decline  to  be  degraded  into  a  brand-new  duke.  An 
earldom  has  always  been  the  right  of  a  Prime  Minister 
who  wishes  to  leave  the  Commons.  In  1880  a  member  of 
the  House  of  Russell  (in  which  there  are  certain  Whiggish 
traditions  of  jobbery)  was  fighting  a  hotly  contested  election, 
and  his  ardent  supporters  brought  out  a  sarcastic  placard — 
"  Benjamin,  Earl  of  Beaconsfield !  He  made  himself  an 
earl  and  the  people  poor " ;  to  which  a  rejoinder  was 
instantly  forthcoming — "  John,  Earl  Russell !  He  made 
himself  an  earl  and  his  relations  rich."  The  amount  of 
truth  in  the  two  statements  was  about  equal.  In  1885 
this  order  of  the  peerage  missed  the  greatest  distinction 
which  fate  is  likely  ever  to  offer  it,  when  Mr.  Gladstone 
declined  the  earldom  proffered  by  her  Majesty  on  his 
retirement  from  office.  Had  he  accepted,  it  was  under- 
stood that  the  representatives  of  the  last  Earl  of  Liverpool 
would  have  waived  their  claims  to  the  extinct  title,  and  the 
greatest  of  the  Queen's  Prime  Ministers  would  have  borne 
the  name  of  the  city  which  gave  him  birth. 

But,  magnificent  and  euphonious  as  an  earldom  is,  the 
children  of  an  earl  are  the  half-castes  of  the  peerage.  The 
eldest  son  is  "my  lord,"  and  his  sisters  are  "my  lady;" 
and  ever  since  the  days  of  Mr.  Foker,  Senior,  it  has  been 
de  rigueur  for  an  opulent  brewer  to  marry  an  earl's  daughter ; 
but  the  younger  sons  are  not  distinguishable  from  the  igno- 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      191 

minious  progeny  of  viscounts  and  barons.  Two  little  boys, 
respectively  the  eldest  and  the  second  son  of  an  earl,  were 
playing  on  the  front  staircase  of  their  home,  when  the 
eldest  fell  over  into  the  hall  below.  The  younger  called 
to  the  footman  who  picked  his  brother  up,  "  Is  he  hurt  ? " 
"  Killed,  my  lord"  was  the  instantanteous  reply  of  a  servant 
who  knew  the  devolution  of  a  courtesy  title. 

As  the  marquises  peuple  the  debatable  land  between  the 
dukes  and  the  earls,  so  do  the  viscounts  between  the  earls 
and  the  barons.  A  child  whom  Matthew  Arnold  was 
examining  in  grammar  once  wrote  of  certain  words  which 
he  found  it  hard  to  classify  under  their  proper  parts  of 
speech  that  they  were  "  thrown  into  the  common  sink, 
which  is  adverbs."  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  considered  guilty 
of  any  disrespect  if  I  say  that  ex-Speakers,  ex-Secretaries 
of  State,  successful  generals,  and  ambitious  barons  who 
are  not  quite  good  enough  for  earldoms,  are  "thrown  into 
the  common  sink,  which  is  viscounts."  Not  only  heralds 
and  genealogists,  but  every  one  who  has  the  historic  sense, 
must  have  felt  an  emotion  of  regret  when  the  splendid  title 
of  twenty-third  Baron  Dacre  was  merged  by  Mr.  Speaker 
Brand  in  the  pinchbeck  dignity  of  first  Viscount  Hampden. 

After  viscounts,  barons.  The  baronage  of  England  is 
headed  by  the  bishops ;  but,  as  we  have  already  discoursed 
of  those  right  reverend  peers,  we,  Dante-like,  will  not  reason 
of  them,  but  pass  on — only  remarking,  as  we  pass,  that 
it  is  held  on  good  authority  that  no  human  being  ever 
experiences  a  rapture  so  intense  as  an  American  bishop 
from  a  Western  State  when  he  first  hears  himself  called 
"  My  lord  "  at  a  London  dinner-party.  After  the  spiritual 
barons  come  the  secular  barons — the  "  common  or  garden  " 
peers  of  the  United  Kingdom.  Of  these  there  are  con- 
siderably more  than  three  hundred  ;  and  of  all,  except  some 
thirty  or  forty  at  the  most,  it  may  be  said  without  offence 
that  they  are  products  of  the  opulent  Middle  Class.     Pitt 


192     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

destroyed  deliberately  and  for  ever  the  exclusive  character 
of  the  British  peerage  when,  as  Lord  Beaconsfield  said,  he  •  j 
"created  a  plebeian  aristocracy  and  blended  it  with  the 
patrician  oligarchy."  And  in  order  to  gain  admission  to 
this  "plebeian  aristocracy"  men  otherwise  reasonable  and 
honest  will  spend  incredible  sums,  undergo  prodigious 
exertions,  associate  themselves  with  the  basest  intrigues, 
and  perform  the  most  unblushing  tergiversations.  Lord 
Houghton  told  me  that  he  said  to  a  well-known  politician 
who  boasted  that  he  had  refused  a  peerage  :  "  Then  you 
made  a  great  mistake.  A  peerage  would  have  secured  you 
three  things  that  you  are  much  in  need  of — social  con- 
sideration, longer  credit  with  your  tradesmen,  and  better 
marriages  for  your  younger  children." 

It  is  unlucky  that  a  comparatively  recent  change  has  put 
it  out  of  the  power  of  a  Prime  Minister  to  create  fresh  Irish 
peers,  for  an  Irish  peerage  was  a  cheap  and  convenient 
method  of  rewarding  political  service.^  Lord  Palmerston 
held  that,  combining  social  rank  with  eligibility  to  the  House 
of  Commons,  it  was  the  most  desirable  distinction  for  a 
politician.  Pitt,  when  his  banker  Mr.  Smith  (who  lived  in 
Whitehall)  desired  the  privilege  of  driving  through  the  Horse 
Guards,  said :  "  No,  I  can't  give  you  that ;  but  I  will  make 
you  an  Irish  peer ; "  and  the  banker  became  the  first  Lord 
Carrington.  j 

What  is  a  Baronet  ?  ask  some.  Sir  Wilfrid  Lawson  (who  ^ 
ought  to  know)  replies  that  he  is  a  man  "who  has  ceased  to 
be  a  gentleman  and  has  not  become  a  nobleman."  But  this 
is  too  severe  a  judgment.  It  breathes  a  spirit  of  contempt 
bred  of  familiarity,  which  may,  without  irreverence,  be 
assumed  by  a  member  of  an  exalted  Order,  but  which  a 
humble  outsider  would  do  well  to  avoid.  As  Major 
Pendenais  said  of  a  similar  manifestation,  "It  sits  prettily 

^  Since  this  passage  was  written,  a  return  has  been  made  to  the  earlier 
practice,  and  an  Irish  peerage  has  been  created — the  first  since  1868. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      193 

enough  on  a  young  patrician  in  early  life,  though  nothing  is 
so  loathsome  among  persons  of  our  rank."  I  turn,  there- 
fore, for  an  answer  to  Sir  Bernard  Burke,  who  says :  *'  The 
hereditary  Order  of  Baronets  was  created  by  patent  in 
England  by  King  James  I.  in  i6ii.  At  the  institution 
many  of  the  chief  estated  gentlemen  of  the  kingdom  were 
selected  for  the  dignity.  The  first  batch  of  Baronets  com- 
prised some  of  the  principal  landed  proprietors  among  the 
best-descended  gentlemen  of  the  kingdom,  and  the  list  was 
headed  by  a  name  illustrious  more  than  any  other  for  the 
intellectual  pre-e-minence  with  which  it  is  associated — the 
name  of  Bacon.  The  Order  of  Baronets  is  scarcely  estimated 
at  its  proper  value." 

I  cannot  help  feeling  that  this  account  of  the  baronetage, 
though  admirable  in  tone  and  spirit,  and  actually  pathetic  in 
its  closing  touch  of  regretful  melancholy,  is  a  little  wanting 
in  what  the  French  would  call  "actuality."  It  leaves  out  of 
sight  the  most  endearing,  because  the  most  human,  trait  of 
the  baronetage — its  pecuniary  origin.  On  this  point  let  us 
hear  the  historian  Hume — "The  title  of  Baronet  was  sold 
and  two  hundred  patents  of  that  species  of  knighthood  were 
disposed  of  for  so  many  thousand  pounds."  This  was  truly 
epoch-making.  It  was  one  of  those  "  actions  of  the  just " 
which  "  smell  sweet  and  blossom  in  the  dust."  King  James's 
baronets  were  the  models  and  precursors  of  all  who  to  the 
end  of  time  should  traffic  in  the  purchase  of  honours.  Their 
example  has  justified  posterity,  and  the  precedent  which  they 
set  is  to-day  the  principal  method  by  which  the  war-chests 
of  our  political  parties  are  replenished. 

Another  authority,  handling  the  same  high  theme,  tells 
us  that  the  rebellion  in  Ulster  gave  rise  to  this  Order,  and 
"  it  was  required  of  each  baronet  on  his  creation  to  pay  into 
the  Exchequer  as  much  as  would  maintain  thirty  soldiers 
three  years  at  eight-pence  a  day  in  the  province  of  Ulster," 
and,  as  a  historical  memorial  of  their  original  service,  the 


194     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

baronets  bear  as  an  augmentation  to  their  coats-of-arms  the 
royal  badge  of  Ulster — a  Bloody  Hand  on  a  white  field.  It 
was  in  apt  reference  to  this  that  a  famous  Whip,  on  learning 
that  a  baronet  of  his  party  was  extremely  anxious  to  be  pro- 
moted to  the  peerage,  said,  "  You  can  tell  Sir  Peter  Proud- 
flesh,  with  my  compliments,  that  we  don't  do  these  things 
for  nothing.  If  he  wants  a  peerage,  he  will  have  to  put  his 
Bloody  Hand  into  his  pocket." 

For  the  female  mind  the  baronetage  has  a  peculiar  fascina- 
tion. As  there  was  once  a  female  Freemason,  so  there  was 
once  a  female  baronet — Dame  Maria  Bolles,  of  Osberton,  in 
the  County  of  Nottingham.  The  rank  of  a  baronet's  wife  is 
not  unfrequently  conferred  on  the  widow  of  a  man  to  whom 
a  baronetcy  had  been  promised  and  who  died  too  soon  to 
receive  it.  "  Call  me  a  vulgar  woman  ! "  screamed  a  lady 
once  prominent  in  society  when  a  good-natured  friend  re- 
peated a  critical  comment.  "  Call  me  a  vulgar  woman  !  me, 
who  was  Miss  Blank,  of  Blank  Hall,  and  if  I  had  been  a  boy 
should  have  been  a  baronet ! " 

The  baronets  of  fiction  are,  like  their  congeners  in  real  life, 
a  numerous  and  a  motley  band.  Lord  Beaconsfield  described, 
with  a  brilliancy  of  touch  which  was  all  his  own,  the  labours 
and  the  sacrifices  of  Sir  Vavasour  Firebrace  on  behalf  of  the 
Order  of  Baronets  and  the  privileges  wrongfully  withheld 
from  them.  "  They  are  evidently  the  body  destined  to  save 
this  country ;  blending  all  sympathies — the  Crown,  of  which 
they  are  the  peculiar  champions  :  the  nobles,  of  whom  they 
are  the  popular  branch ;  the  people,  who  recognize  in  them 
their  natural  leaders.  .  .  .  Had  the  poor  King  lived,  we 
should  at  least  have  had  the  Badge,"  added  Sir  Vavasour 
mournfully. 

"  The  Badge  ?  " 

"  It  would  have  satisfied  Sir  Grosvenor  le  Draughte ;  he 
was  for  compromise.  But,  confound  him,  his  father  was 
only  an  accoucheur." 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      195 

A -great  merit  of  the  baronets,  from  the  novelist's  point  of 
view,  is  that  they  and  their  belongings  are  so  uncommonly 
easy  to  draw.  He  is  Sir  Grosvenor,  his  wife  is  Lady  le 
Draughte,  his  sons,  elder  and  younger,  are  Mr.  le  Draughte, 
and  his  daughters  Miss  le  Draughte.  The  wayfaring  men, 
though  fools,  cannot  err  where  the  rule  is  so  simple,  and 
accordingly  the  baronets  enjoy  a  deserved  popularity  with 
those  novelists  who  look  up  to  the  titled  classes  of  society 
as  men  look  at  the  stars,  but  are  a  little  puzzled  about  their 
proper  designations.  Miss  Braddon  alone  has  drawn  more 
baronets,  virtuous  and  vicious,  handsome  and  hideous,  than 
would  have  colonized  Ulster  ten  times  over  and  left  a  residue 
for  Nova  Scotia.  Sir  Pitt  Crawley  and  Sir  Barnes  Newcome 
will  live  as  long  as  English  novels  are  read,  and  I  hope  that 
dull  forgetfulness  will  never  seize  as  its  prey  Sir  Alured 
Mogyns  Smyth  de  Mogyns,  who  was  born  Alfred  Smith 
Muggins,  but  traced  a  descent  from  Hogyn  Mogyn  of  the 
Hundred  Beeves,  and  took  for  his  motto  "Ung  Roy  ung 
Mogyns."  His  pedigree  is  drawn  in  the  seventh  chapter  of 
the  Book  of  Snobs,  and  is  imitated  with  great  fidelity  on  more 
than  one  page  of  Burke's  Peerage. 

An  eye  closely  intent  upon  the  lesser  beauties  of  the 
natural  world  will  find  a  very  engaging  specimen  of  the 
genus  Baronet  in  Sir  Barnet  Skettles,  who  was  so  kind 
to  Paul  Dombey  and  so  angry  with  poor  Mr.  Baps.  Sir 
Leicester  Dedlock  is  on  a  larger  scale — in  fact,  almost  too 
"  fine  and  large  "  for  life.  But  I  recall  a  fleeting  vision  of 
perfect  loveliness  among  Miss  Monflathers's  pupils — "a 
baronet's  daughter  who  by  some  extraordinary  reversal  of 
the  laws  of  Nature  was  not  only  plain  in  feature  but  dull  in 
intellect." 

So  far  we  have  spoken  only  of  hereditary  honours ;  but 
our  review  would  be  singularly  incomplete  if  it  excluded 
those  which  are  purely  personal.  Of  these,  of  course,  in- 
comparably the  highest  is  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  and  its 


196     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

most  characteristic  glory  is  that,  in  Lord  Melbourne's  phrase, 
"  thete  is  no  d d  nonsense  of  merit  about  it."  The  Em- 
peror of  Lilliput  rewarded  his  courtiers  with  three  fine  silken 
threads,  one  of  which  was  blue,  one  green,  and  one  red. 
The  Emperor  held  a  stick  horizontally,  and  the  candidates 
crept  under  it,  backwards  and  forwards,  several  times.  Who- 
ever showed  the  most  agility  in  creeping  was  rewarded  with 
the  blue  thread. 

Let  us  hope  that  the  methods  of  chivalry  have  undergone 
some  modification  since  the  days  of  Queen  Anne,  and  that 
the  Blue  Ribbon  of  the  Garter,  which  ranks  with  the  Golden 
Fleece  and  makes  its  wearer  a  comrade  of  all  the  crowned 
heads  of  Europe,  is  attained  by  arts  more  dignified  than 
those  which  awoke  the  picturesque  satire  of  Dean  Swift. 
But  I  do  not  feel  sure  about  it. 

Great  is  the  charm  of  a  personal  decoration.  Byron 
wrote : 

"  Ye  stars,  that  are  the  poetry  of  heaven." 

"  A  Stupid  line,"  says  Mr.  St.  Barbe  in  Endymion ;  "  he 
should  have  written,  *Ye  stars,  that  are  the  poetry  of 
dress.' "  North  of  the  Tweed  the  green  thread  of  Swift's 
imagination — "the  most  ancient  and  most  noble  Order  of 
the  Thistle " — is  scarcely  less  coveted  than  the  supreme 
honour  of  the  Garter ;  but  wild  horses  should  not  drag  from 
me  the  name  of  the  Scottish   peer  of  whom  his  political 

leader  said,  "  If  I  gave the  Thistle,  he  would  eat  it." 

The  Bath  tries  to  make  up  by  the  lurid  splendour  of  its 
ribbon  and  the  brilliancy  of  its  star  for  its  comparatively 
humble  and  homely  associations.  It  is  the  peculiar  prize  of 
Generals  and  Home  Secretaries,  and  is  displayed  with  manly 
openness  on  the  bosom  of  the  statesman  once  characteristic- 
ally described  by  Lord  Beaconsfield  as  "  Mr.  Secretary 
Cross,  whom  I  can  never  remember  to  call  Sir  Richard." 

But,  after  all  said  and  done,  the  institution  of  knighthood 
is  older  than  any  particular  order  of  knights;  and  lovers  of 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      197 

the  old  world  must  observe  with  regret  the  discredit  into 
which  it  has  fallen  since  it  became  the  guerdon  of  the  suc- 
cessful grocer.  When  Lord  Beaconsfield  left  office  in  1880 
he  conferred  a  knighthood — the  first  of  a  long  series  similarly 
bestowed — on  an  eminent  journalist.  The  friends  of  the 
new  knight  were  inclined  to  banter  him,  and  proposed  his 
health  at  a  dinner  in  facetious  terms.  Lord  Beaconsfield, 
who  was  of  the  company,  looked  preternaturally  grave,  and, 
filling  his  glass,  gazed  steadily  at  the  flattered  editor  and  said 
in  his  deepest  tone  :  "Yes,  Sir  A.  B.,  I  drink  to  your  good 
health,  and  I  congratulate  you  on  having  attained  a  rank 
which  was  deemed  sufficient  honour  for  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Sir  Isaac  Newton  and  Sir  Chris- 
topher Wren." 

But  a  truce  to  this  idle  jesting  on  exalted  themes — too 
palpably  the  utterance  of  social  envy  and  mortified  ambition. 
"  They  are  our  superiors,  and  that's  the  fact,"  as  Thackeray 
exclaims  in  his  chapter  on  the  Whigs.  "  I  am  not  a  Whig 
myself;  but,  oh,  how  I  should  like  to  be  one!"  In  a 
similar  spirit  of  compunctious  self-abasement,  the  present 
writer  may  exclaim,  "  I  have  not  myself  been  included  in 
the  list  of  Birthday  Honours, — but,  oh,  how  I  should  Hke  to 
be  there !  " 


> 


XXI. 

THE  QUEEN'S  ACCESSION. 

nPHE  writer  of  these  chapters  would  not  willingly  fall 
•^  behind  his  countrymen  in  the  loyal  sentiments  and 
picturesque  memories  proper  to  the  "high  mid-sum- 
mer pomps "  which  begin  to-morrow.*  But  there  is  an 
almost  insuperable  difficulty  in  finding  anything  to  write 
which  shall  be  at  once  new  and  true ;  and  this  chapter  must 
therefore  consist  mainly  of  extracts.  As  the  sun  of  August 
brings  out  wasps,  so  the  genial  influence  of  the  Jubilee  has 
produced  an  incredible  abundance  of  fibs,  myths,  and  fables. 
They  have  for  their  subject  the  early  days  of  our  Gracious 
Sovereign,  and  round  that  central  theme  they  play  with  every 
variety  of  picturesque  inventiveness.  Nor  has  invention 
alone  been  at  work.  Research  has  been  equally  busy. 
Miss  Wynn's  description,  admirable  in  its  simplicity,  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  girl-queen  received  the  news  of  her 
accession  was  given  to  the  world  by  Abraham  Hayward  in 
Diaries  of  a  Lady  of  Quality  a  generation  ago.  Within  the 
last  month  it  must  have  done  duty  a  hundred  times. 

Scarcely  less  familiar  is  the  more  elaborate  but  still  im- 
pressive passage  from  Sybils  in  which  Lord  Beaconsfield 
described  the  same  event.  And  yet,  as  far  as  my  observation 
has  gone,  the  citations  from  this  fine  description  have  always 
stopped  short  just  at  the  opening  of  the  most  appropriate 

*  Sunday,  June  20,  1897. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      199 

passage ;  my  readers,  at  any  rate,  shall  see  it  and  judge  it 
for  themselves.  If  there  is  one  feature  in  the  national  life 
of  the  last  sixty  years  on  which  Englishmen  may  justly  pride 
themselves  it  is  the  amelioration  of  the  social  condition  of 
the  workers.  Putting  aside  all  ecclesiastical  revivals,  all 
purely  political  changes,  and  all  appeals,  however  successful, 
to  the  horrible  arbitrament  of  the  sword,  it  is  Social  Reform 
which  has  made  the  Queen's  reign  memorable  and  glorious. 
The  first  incident  of  that  reign  was  described  in  Sybil  not 
only  with  vivid  observation  of  the  present,  but  with  some- 
thing of  prophetic  insight  into  the  future. 

"  In  a  sweet  and  thrilling  voice,  and  with  a  composed 
mien  which  indicates  rather  the  absorbing  sense  of  august 
duty  than  an  absence  of  emotion,  THE  QUEEN  announces 
her  accession  to  the  throne  of  her  ancestors,  and  her  humble 
hope  that  Divine  Providence  will  guard  over  the  fulfilment 
of  her  lofty  trust.  The  prelates  and  captains  and  chief  men 
of  her  realm  then  advance  to  the  throne,  and,  kneeling 
before  her,  pledge  their  troth  and  take  the  sacred  oaths  of 
allegiance  and  supremacy — allegiance  to  one  who  rules  over 
the  land  that  the  great  Macedonian  could  not  conquer,  and 
over  a  continent  of  which  Columbus  never  dreamed  :  to  the 
Queen  of  every  sea,  and  of  nations  in  every  zone. 

"  It  is  not  of  these  that  I  would  speak,  but  of  a  nation 
nearer  her  footstool,  and  which  at  this  moment  looks  to  her 
with  anxiety,  with  affection,  perhaps  with  hope.  Fair  and 
serene,  she  has  the  blood  and  beauty  of  the  Saxon.  Will 
it  be  her  proud  destiny  at  length  to  bear  relief  to  suffering 
millions,  and  with  that  soft  hand  which  might  inspire  trouba- 
dours and  guerdon  knights,  break  the  last  links  in  the  chain 
of  Saxon  thraldom  ?  " 

To-day,  with  pride  and  thankfulness,  chastened  though 
it  be  by  our  sense  of  national  shortcomings,  we  can  answer 
Yes  to  this  wistful  question  of  genius  and  humanity.  We 
have  seen  the  regulation  of  dangerous  labour,  the  protection 


200      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  women  and  children  from  excessive  toil,  the  removal  of 
the  tax  on  bread,  the  establishment  of  a  system  of  national 
education ;  and  in  Macaulay's  phrase,  a  point  which  yester- 
day was  invisible  is  our  goal  to-day,  and  will  be  our  starting- 
post  to-morrow. 

Her  Majesty  ascended  the  throne  on  the  20th  of  June 
1837,  and  on  the  29th  the  Times  published  a  delightfully 
characteristic  article  against  the  Whig  Ministers,  "  into  whose 
hands  the  all  but  infant  and  helpless  Queen  has  been  com- 
pelled by  her  unhappy  condition  to  deliver  up  herself  and 
her  indignant  people."  Bating  one  word,  this  might  be  an 
extract  from  an  article  on  the  formation  of  Mr.  Gladstone's 
Home  Rule  Government.  Surely  the  consistency  of  the 
Times  in  evil-speaking  is  one  of  the  most  precious  of  our 
national  possessions.  On  the  30th  of  June  the  Royal 
Assent  was  given  by  commission  to  forty  Bills — the  first 
Bills  which  became  law  in  the  Queen's  reign;  and,  the 
clerks  in  the  House  of  Lords  having  been  accustomed  ever 
since  the  days  of  Queen  Anne  to  say  "his  Majesty"  and 
"Le  Roy  le  veult,"  there  was  hopeless  bungling  over  the 
feminine  appellations,  now  after  130  years  revived.  How- 
ever, the  Bills  scrambled  through  somehow,  and  among  them 
was  the  Act  which  abolished  the  pillory — an  auspicious 
commencement  of  a  humane  and  reforming  reign.  On  the 
8th  of  July  came  the  rather  belated  burial  of  William  IV.  at 
Windsor,  and  on  the  nth  the  newly  completed  Buckingham 
Palace  was  occupied  for  the  first  time,  the  Queen  and  the 
Duchess  of  Kent  moving  thither  from  Kensington. 

On  the  17th  of  July,  Parliament  was  prorogued  by  the 
Queen  in  person.  Her  Majesty's  first  Speech  from  the 
Throne  referred  to  friendly  relations  with  Foreign  Powers, 
the  diminution  of  capital  punishment,  and  "  discreet  improve- 
ments in  ecclesiastical  institutions."  It  was  read  in  a  clear 
and  musical  voice,  with  a  fascinating  grace  of  accent  and 
elocution  which  never  faded  from  the  memory  of  those  who 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      201 

heard  it.  As  long  as  her  Majesty  continued  to  open  and 
prorogue  Parliament  in  person  the  same  perfection  of  delivery 
was  always  noticed.  An  old  M.P.,  by  no  means  inclined  to 
be  a  courtier,  told  me  that  when  her  Majesty  approached 
the  part  of  her  speech  relating  to  the  estimates,  her  way  of 
uttering  the  words  "  Gentlemen  of  the  House  of  Commons  " 
was  the  most  winning  address  he  had  ever  heard  :  it  gave 
to  an  official  demand  the  character  of  a  personal  request. 
After  the  Prince  Consort's  death,  the  Queen  did  not  again 
appear  at  Westminster  till  the  opening  of  the  new  Parliament 
in  1866.  On  that  occasion  the  speech  was  read  by  the  Lord 
Chancellor,  and  the  same  usage  has  prevailed  whenever  her 
Majesty  has  opened  Parliament  since  that  time.  But  on 
several  occasions  of  late  years  she  has  read  her  reply  to 
addresses  presented  by  public  bodies,  and  I  well  recol- 
lect that  at  the  opening  of  the  Imperial  Institute  in  1893, 
though  the  timbre  of  her  voice  was  deeper  than  in  early 
years,  the  same  admirable  elocution  made  every  syllable 
audible. 

In  June  1837  the  most  lively  emotion  in  the  masses  of 
the  people  was  the  joy  of  a  great  escape.  I  have  said  before 
that  grave  men,  not  the  least  given  to  exaggeration,  told  me 
their  profound  conviction  that,  had  Ernest  Duke  of  Cumber, 
land  succeeded  to  the  throne  on  the  death  of  William  IV., 
no  earthly  power  could  have  averted  a  revolution.  The 
plots  of  which  the  Duke  was  the  centre  have  been  described 
with  a  due  commixture  of  history  and  romance  in  Mr.  Allen 
Upward's  fascinating  story,  God  save  the  Queen.  Into  the 
causes  of  his  intense  unpopularity,  this  is  not  the  occasion 
to  enter;  but  let  me  just  describe  a  curious  print  of  the 
year  1837  which  lies  before  me  as  I  write.  It  is  headed 
"  The  Contrast,"  and  is  divided  into  two  panels.  On  your 
left  hand  is  a  young  girl,  simply  dressed  in  mourning,  with 
a  pearl  necklace  and  a  gauzy  shawl,  and  her  hair  coiled  in 
plaits,  something  after  the  fashion  of  a  crown.     Under  this 

8 


202      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

portrait  is  "  Victoria."  On  the  other  side  of  the  picture  is  a 
hideous  old  man,  with  shaggy  eyebrows  and  scowling  gaze, 
wrapped  in  a  military  cloak  with  fur  collar  and  black  stock. 
Under  this  portrait  is  " Ernest"  and  running  the  whole 
length  of  the  picture  is  the  legend : — 

"  Look  here  upon  this  picture — and— on  this. 
The  counterfeit  presentment  of  two  sov'reigns.*' 

This  print  was  given  to  me  by  a  veteran  Reformer,  who 
told  me  that  it  expressed  in  visible  form  the  universal  senti- 
ment of  England.  That  sentiment  was  daily  and  hourly 
confirmed  by  all  that  was  heard  and  seen  of  the  girl-queen. 
We  read  of  her  walking  with  a  gallant  suite  upon  the  terrace 
at  Windsor ;  dressed  in  scarlet  uniform  and  mounted  on  her 
roan  charger,  to  receive  with  uplifted  hand  the  salute  of  her 
troops ;  or  seated  on  the  throne  of  the  Plantagenets  at  the 
opening  of  her  Parliament,  and  invoking  the  Divine  benedic- 
tion on  the  labours  which  should  conduce  to  "  the  welfare  and 
contentment  of  My  people."  We  see  her  yielding  her  bright 
intelligence  to  the  constitutional  guidance,  wise  though 
worldly,  of  her  first  Prime  Minister,  the  sagacious  Mel- 
bourne. And  then,  when  the  exigencies  of  parliamentary 
government  forced  her  to  exchange  her  Whig  advisers  for 
the  Tories,  we  see  her  carrying  out  with  exact  propriety  the 
lessons  taught  by  "  the  friend  of  her  youth,"  and  extending 
to  each  premier  in  turn,  whether  personally  agreeable  to  her 
or  not,  the  same  absolute  confidence  and  loyalty. 

As  regards  domestic  life,  we  have  been  told  by  Mr. 
Gladstone  that  "even  among  happy  marriages  her  marriage 
was  exceptional,  so  nearly  did  the  union  of  thought,  heart, 
and  action  both  fulfil  the  ideal  and  bring  duality  near  to  the 
borders  of  identity." 

And  so  twenty  years  went  on,  full  of  an  ever-growing 
popularity,  and  a  purifying  influence  on  the  tone  of 
society  never  fully  realized  till  the  personal  presence  was 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      203 

withdrawn.  And  then  came  the  blow  which  crushed  her 
life — "the  sun  going  down  at  noon" — and  total  disappear- 
ance from  all  festivity  and  parade  and  social  splendour,  but 
never  from  political  duty.  In  later  years  we  have  seen  the 
gradual  resumption  of  more  public  offices ;  the  occasional 
reappearances,  so  earnestly  anticipated  by  her  subjects,  and 
hedged  with  something  of  a  divinity  more  than  regal;  the 
incomparable  majesty  of  personal  bearing  which  has  taught 
so  many  an  onlooker  that  dignity  has  nothing  to  do  with 
height,  or  beauty  or  splendour  of  raiment;  and,  mingled 
with  that  majesty  and  unspeakably  enhancing  it,  the  human 
sympathy  with  suffering  and  sorrow,  which  has  made  Queen 
Victoria,  as  none  of  her  predecessors  ever  was  or  could  be, 
the  Mother  of  her  People. 

And  the  response  of  the  English  people  to  that  sympathy 
— the  recognition  of  that  motherhood — is  written,  not  only 
in  the  printed  records  of  the  reign,  but  on  the  "fleshly 
tables  "  of  English  hearts.  Let  one  homely  citation  suffice 
as  an  illustration.  It  is  taken  from  a  letter  of  condolence 
addressed  to  the  Queen  in  1892,  on  the  death  of  Prince 
"  Eddie,"  Duke  of  Clarence : — 

"  To  our  beloved  Queen,  Victoria. 

"  Dear  Lady, — We,  the  surviving  widows  and  mothers  of 
some  of  the  men  and  boys  who  lost  their  lives  by  the  ex- 
plosion which  occurred  in  the  Oaks  Colliery,  near  Barnsley, 
in  December  1866,  desire  to  tell  your  Majesty  how  stunned 
we  all  feel  by  the  cruel  and  unexpected  blow  which  has 
taken  'Prince  Eddie'  from  his  dear  Grandmother,  his 
loving  parents,  his  beloved  intended,  and  an  admiring  nation. 
The  sad  news  afifected  us  deeply,  we  all  believing  that  his 
youthful  strength  would  carry  him  through  the  danger.  Dear 
Lady,  we  feel  more  than  we  can  express.  To  tell  you  that 
we  sincerely  condole  with  your  ^lajesty  and  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales  in  your  and  their  sad  bereavement  and  great 


204     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

distress  is  not  to  tell  you  all  we  feel ;  but  the  widow  of  Albert 
the  Good  and  the  parents  of  Prince  Eddie  will  understand 
what  we  feel  when  we  say  that  we  feel  all  that  widows  and 
mothers  feel  who  have  lost  those  who  were  dear  as  life  to 
them.  Dear  Lady,  we  remember  with  gratitude  all  that  you 
did  for  us  Oaks  widows  in  the  time  of  our  great  trouble,  and 
we  cannot  forget  you  in  yours.  We  have  not  forgotten  that 
it  was  you,  dear  Queen,  who  set  the  example,  so  promptly 
followed  by  all  feeling  people,  of  forming  a  fund  for  the 
relief  of  our  distress — a  fund  which  kept  us  out  of  the 
workhouse  at  the  time  and  has  kept  us  out  ever  since.  .  .  . 
We  wish  it  were  in  our  power,  dear  Lady,  to  dry  up  your 
tears  and  comfort  you,  but  that  we  cannot  do.  But  what 
we  can  do,  and  will  do,  is  to  pray  God,  in  His  mercy  and 
goodness,  to  comfort  and  strengthen  you  in  this  your  time 
of  great  trouble. — Wishing  your  Majesty,  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales,  and  the  Princess  May  all  the  strength, 
consolation,  and  comfort  which  God  alone  can  give,  and 
which  He  never  fails  to  give  to  all  who  seek  Him  in  truth 
and  sincerity,  we  remain,  beloved  Queen,  your  loving  and 
grateful  though  sorrowing  subjects, 

"The  Oaks  Widows." 

The  historic  associations,  half  gay,  half  sad,  of  the  week 
on  which  we  are  just  entering  tempt  me  to  linger  on  this 
fascinating  theme,  and  I  cannot  illustrate  it  better  than  by 
quoting  the  concluding  paragraphs  from  a  sermon,  which 
now  has  something  of  the  dignity  of  fulfilled  prophecy,  and 
which  was  preached  by  Sydney  Smith  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral 
on  the  Sunday  after  the  Queen's  accession. 

The  sermon  is  throughout  a  noble  composition,  grandly 
conceived  and  admirably  expressed.  It  begins  with  some 
grave  reflections  on  the  "folly  and  nothingness  of  all  things 
human  "  as  exemplified  by  the  death  of  a  king.  It  goes  on 
to  enforce  on  the  young  Queen  the  paramount  duties  of 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      205 

educating  her  people,  avoiding  war,  and  cultivating  personal 
religion.  It  concludes  with  the  following  passage,  which  in 
its  letter,  or  at  least  in  its  spirit,  might  well  find  a  place  in 
some  of  to-morrow's  sermons  : — "  The  Patriot  Queen,  whom 
I  am  painting,  reverences  the  National  Church,  frequents  its 
worship,  and  regulates  her  faith  by  its  precepts ;  but  she 
withstands  the  encroachments  and  keeps  down  the  ambition 
natural  to  Establishments,  and,  by  rendering  the  privileges 
of  the  Church  compatible  with  the  civil  freedom  of  all 
sects,  confers  strength  upon  and  adds  duration  to  that 
wise  and  magnificent  institution.  And  then  this  youthful 
Monarch,  profoundly  but  wisely  religious,  disdaining  hypoc- 
risy, and  far  above  the  childish  follies  of  false  piety,  casts 
herself  upon  God,  and  seeks  from  the  Gospel  of  His  blessed 
Son  a  path  for  her  steps  and  a  comfort  for  her  soul.  Here 
is  a  picture  which  warms  every  English  heart,  and  would 
bring  all  this  congregation  upon  their  bended  knees  to  pray 
it  may  be  realized.  What  limits  to  the  glory  and  happiness 
of  the  native  land  if  the  Creator  should  in  His  mercy  have 
placed  in  the  heart  of  this  royal  woman  the  rudiments  of 
wisdom  and  mercy  ?  And  if,  giving  them  time  to  expand, 
and  to  bless  our  children's  children  with  her  goodness.  He 
should  grant  to  her  a  long  sojourning  upon  earth,  and  leave 
her  to  reign  over  us  till  she  is  well  stricken  in  years,  what 
glory!  what  happiness  !  what  joy!  what  bounty  of  God  !  I  of 
course  can  only  expect  to  see  the  beginning  of  such  a  splendid 
period ;  but  when  I  do  see  it  I  shall  exclaim  with  the  pious 
Simeon — '  Lord,  now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servant  depart  in 
peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  Thy  salvation.' " 

As  respects  the  avoidance  of  war,  the  event  has  hardly 
accorded  with  the  aspiration.  It  is  melancholy  to  recall 
the  idealist  enthusiasms  which  preceded  the  Exhibition  of 
1851,  and  to  contrast  them  with  the  realities  of  the  present 
hour.  Then  the  arts  of  industry  and  the  competitions  of 
peace  were  to  supplant  for  ever  the  science  of  bloodshed. 


2o6      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Nations  were  to  beat  their  swords  into  ploughshares  and 
their  spears  into  pruning-hooks,  and  men  were  not  to  learn 
war  any  more.  And  this  was  on  the  eve  of  the  Crimea — 
the  most  ruinous,  the  most  cruel,  and  the  least  justifiable  of 
all  campaigns.  In  one  corner  of  the  world  or  another,  the 
war-drum  has  throbbed  almost  without  intermission  from 
that  day  to  this. 

But  when  we  turn  to  other  aspirations  the  retrospect  is 
more  cheerful.  Slavery  has  been  entirely  abolished,  and, 
with  all  due  respect  to  Mr.  George  Curzon,  is  not  going  to 
be  re-established  under  the  British  flag.  The  punishment 
of  death,  rendered  infinitely  more  impressive,  and  therefore 
more  deterrent,  by  its  withdrawal  from  the  public  gaze,  is 
reserved  for  offences  which  even  Romilly  would  not  have 
condoned.  The  diminution  of  crime  is  an  acknowledged 
fact.  Better  laws  and  improved  institutions — judicial,  poli- 
tical, social,  sanitary — we  flatter  ourselves  that  we  may  claim. 
National  Education  dates  from  1870,  and  its  operation  during 
a  quarter  of  a  century  has  changed  the  face  of  the  industrial 
world.  Queen  Victoria  in  her  later  years  reigns  over  an 
educated  people. 

Of  the  most  important  theme  of  all — our  national  advance 
in  religion,  morality,  and  the  principles  of  humane  living — I 
have  spoken  in  previous  chapters,  and  this  is  not  the  occa- 
sion for  anything  but  the  briefest  recapitulation.  "Where  is 
boasting  ?  It  is  excluded."  There  is  much  to  be  thankful 
for,  much  to  encourage ;  something  to  cause  anxiety,  and 
nothing  to  justify  bombast.  No  one  believes  more  pro- 
foundly than  I  do  in  the  providential  mission  of  the  English 
race,  and  the  very  intensity  of  my  faith  in  that  mission 
makes  me  even  painfully  anxious  that  we  should  interpret  it 
aright.  Men  who  were  undergraduates  at  Oxford  in  the 
'seventies  learned  the  interpretation,  in  words  of  unsur- 
passable beauty,  from  John  Ruskin  : — 

"There  is  a  destiny  now  possible  to  us — the  highest  ever 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      207 

set  before  a  nation,  to  be  accepted  or  refused.  We  are  still 
undegenerate  in  race ;  a  race  mingled  of  the  best  northern 
blood.  We  are  not  yet  dissolute  in  temper,  but  still  have 
the  firmness  to  govern  and  the  grace  to  obey.  We  have 
been  taught  a  religion  of  pure  mercy,  which  we  must  either 
now  finally  betray  or  learn  to  defend  by  fulfilling.  And  we 
are  rich  in  an  inheritance  of  honour,  bequeathed  to  us 
through  a  thousand  years  of  noble  history,  which  it  should 
be  our  daily  thirst  to  increase  with  splendid  avarice,  so  that 
Englishmen,  if  it  be  a  sin  to  covet  honour,  should  be  the 
most  offending  souls  alive. 

•*  Within  the  last  few  years  we  have  had  the  laws  of  natural 
science  opened  to  us  with  a  rapidity  which  has  been  blinded 
by  its  brightness,  and  means  of  transit  and  communication 
given  to  us  which  have  made  but  one  kingdom  of  the  habi- 
table globe.  One  kingdom — but  who  is  to  be  its  King? 
Is  there  to  be  no  King  in  it,  think  you,  and  every  man  to 
do  that  which  is  right  in  his  own  eyes  ?  Or  only  kings  of 
terror,  and  the  obscene  Empires  of  Mammon  and  Belial? 
Or  will  you,  youths  of  England,  make  your  country  again  a 
royal  throne  of  Kings,  a  sceptred  isle,  for  all  the  world  a 
source  of  light,  a  centre  of  peace ;  mistress  of  learning  and 
of  the  arts ;  faithful  guardian  of  great  memories  in  the  midst 
of  irreverent  and  ephemeral  visions ;  faithful  servant  of  time- 
tried  principles,  under  temptation  from  fond  experiments 
and  licentious  desires ;  and  amidst  the  cruel  and  clamorous 
jealousies  of  the  nations,  worshipped  in  her  strange  valour 
of  good  will  towards  men  ?  " 


XXII. 

"PRINCEDOMS,  VIRTUES,  POWERS." 

npHE  celebrations  of  the  past  week  *  have  set  us  all  upon 
-*■  a  royal  tack.  Diary-keepers  have  turned  back  to 
their  earliest  volumes  for  stories  of  the  girl-queen ;  there 
has  been  an  unprecedented  run  on  the  Annual  Register 
for  1837  ;  and  every  rusty  print  of  Princess  Victoria  in  the 
costume  of  Kate  Nickleby  has  been  paraded  as  a  pearl  of 
price.  As  I  always  pride  myself  on  following  what  Mr. 
Matthew  Arnold  used  to  call  "  the  great  mundane  move- 
ment," I  have  been  careful  to  obey  the  impulse  of  the  hour. 
I  have  cudgelled  my  memory  for  Collections  and  Recollec- 
tions suitable  to  this  season  of  retrospective  enthusiasm. 
Last  week  I  endeavoured  to  touch  some  of  the  more  serious 
aspects  of  the  Jubilee,  but  now  that  the  great  day  has  come 
and  gone — "  Bedtime,  Hal,  and  all  well  " — a  lighter  handling 
of  the  majestic  theme  may  not  be  esteemed  unpardonable. 

Those  of  my  fellow-chroniclers  who  have  blacked  them- 
selves all  over  for  the  part  have  acted  on  the  principle  that 
no  human  life  can  be  properly  understood  without  an  ex- 
haustive knowledge  of  its  grandfathers  and  grandmothers. 
They  have  resuscitated  George  III.  and  called  Queen  Char- 
lotte from  her  long  home.  With  a  less  heroic  insistence  on 
the  historic  method,  I  leave  grandparents  out  of  sight,  and 
begin  my  gossip  with  the  Queen's  uncles.     Of  George  IV. 

*  June  20-27,  1897. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      209 

it  is  less  necessary  that  I  should  speak,  for  has  not  his  char- 
acter been  drawn  by  Thackeray  in  his  Lectures  on  the  Four 
Georges  ? 

"  The  dandy  of  sixty,  who  bows  with  a  grace, 
And  has  taste  in  wigs,  collars,  cuirasses,  and  lace  ; 
Who  to  tricksters  and  fools  leaves  the  State  and  its  treasure, 
And,  while  Britain's  in  tears,  sails  about  at  his  pleasure," 

was  styled,  as  we  all  know,  "  the  First  Gentleman  in  Europe." 
I  forget  if  I  have  previously  narrated  the  following  instance 
of  gentlemanlike  conduct.  If  I  have,  it  will  bear  repetition. 
The  late  Lord  Charles  Russell  (1807-1894),  when  a  youth 
of  eighteen,  had  just  received  a  commission  in  the  Blues, 
and  was  commanded,  with  the  rest  of  his  regiment,  to  a  full- 
dress  ball  at  Carlton  House,  where  the  King  then  held  his 
Court.  Unluckily  for  his  peace  of  mind,  the  young  subaltern 
dressed  at  his  father's  house,  and,  not  being  used  to  the 
splendid  paraphernalia  of  the  Blues'  uniform,  he  omitted  to 
put  on  his  aiguillette.  Arrived  at  Carlton  House  the  com- 
pany, before  they  could  enter  the  ball-room,  had  to  advance 
in  single  file  along  a  corridor  in  which  the  old  King,  be- 
wigged  and  bestarred,  was  seated  on  a  sofa.  When  the 
hapless  youth  who  lacked  the  aiguillette  approached  the 
presence,  he  heard  a  very  high  voice  exclaim,  "  Who  is  this 
d — d  fellow?"  Retreat  was  impossible,  and  there  was  no- 
thing for  it  but  to  shuffle  on  and  try  to  pass  the  King  with- 
out  further  rebuke.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  As  he  neared  the  sofa 
the  King  exclaimed,  "  Good  evening,  sir.  I  suppose  you 
are  the  regimental  doctor?"  and  the  imperfectly-accoutred 
youth,  covered  with  confusion  as  with  a  cloak,  fled  blushing 
into  the  ball-room,  and  hid  himself  from  further  observation. 
And  yet  the  narrator  of  this  painful  story  always  declared 
that  George  IV.  could  be  very  gracious  when  the  fancy  took 
him ;  that  he  was  uniformly  kind  to  children ;  and  that  on 
public  occasions  his  manner  was  the  perfection  of  kingly 
courtesy.     His   gorgeous   habits   and  '  profuse   expenditure 


210      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

made  him  strangely  popular.  The  people,  though  they 
detested  his  conduct,  thought  him  "every  inch  a  King." 
Lord  Shaftesbury,  noting  in  his  diary  for  the  igth  of  May 
1849  the  attempt  of  Hamilton  upon  the  Queen's  life, 
writes : — "  The  profligate  George  IV.  passed  through  a  life 
of  selfishness  and  sin  without  a  single  proved  attempt  to 
take  it.  This  mild  and  virtuous  young  woman  has  four 
times  already  been  exposed  to  imminent  peril." 

The  careers  of  the  King's  younger  brothers  and  sisters 
would  fill  a  volume  of  "queer  stories."  Of  the  Duke  of 
York  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith  genially  remarks  that  "  the  only 
meritorious  action  of  his  life  was  that  he  once  risked  it  in  a 
duel."  The  Duke  of  Clarence — Burns's  "  Young  royal  Tarry 
Breeks " — lived  in  disreputable  seclusion  till  he  ascended 
the  throne,  and  then  was  so  excited  by  his  elevation  that 
people  thought  he  was  going  mad.  The  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land was  the  object  of  a  popular  detestation  of  which  the 
grounds  can  be  discovered  in  the  Annual  Register  for  1810. 
The  Duke  of  Sussex  made  two  marriages  in  defiance  of 
the  Royal  Marriage  Act,  and  took  a  political  part  as  active 
on  the  Liberal  side  as  that  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
among  the  Tories.  The  Duke  of  Cambridge  is  chiefly 
remembered  by  his  grotesque  habit  (recorded,  by  the  way, 
in  Happy  Thoughts)  of  making  loud  responses  of  his  own 
invention  to  the  service  in  church.  "  Let  us  pray,"  said 
the  clergyman :  "  By  all  means,"  said  the  Duke.  The 
clergyman  begins  the  prayer  for  rain  :  the  Duke  exclaims, 
"  No  good  as  long  as  the  wind  is  in  the  east." 

Clergyman  :  "  '  Zacchaeus  stood  forth  and  said,  Behold, 
Lord,  the  half  of  my  goods  I  give  to  the  poor.'  "  / 

Duke :  "  Too  much,  too  much ;  don't  mind  tithes,  but 
can't  stand  that."  To  two  of  the  Commandments,  which 
I  decline  to  discriminate,  the  Duke's  responses  were — 
"  Quite  right,  quite  right,  but  very  difficult  sometimes  ; '' 
and  "No,  no!     It  was  my  brother  Ernest  did  that." 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      211 

Those  who  care  to  pursue  these  curious  byways  of  not 
very  ancient  history  are  referred  to  the  unfaiUng  Greville  ; 
to  Lady  Anne  Hamilton's  Secret  History  of  the  Court  of 
Etigland ;  and  to  the  Recollections  of  a  Lady  of  Quality^ 
commonly  ascribed  to  Lady  Charlotte  Bury.  The  closer 
our  acquaintance  with  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  last 
age,  even  in  what  are  called  "  the  highest  circles,"  the  more 
wonderful  will  appear  the  social  transformation  which  dates 
from  her  Majesty's  accession.  Thackeray  spoke  the  words 
of  truth  and  soberness  when,  after  describing  the  virtues  and 
the  limitations  of  George  III.,  he  said  :  "  I  think  we  acknow- 
ledge in  the  inheritrix  of  his  sceptre  a  wiser  rule  and  a  life 
as  honourable  and  pure  ;  and  I  am  sure  that  the  future 
painter  of  our  manners  will  pay  a  willing  allegiance  to  that 
good  life,  and  be  loyal  to  the  memory  of  that  unsullied 
virtue." 

For  the  earlier  years  of  the  Queen's  reign  Greville  con- 
tinues to  be  a  fairly  safe  guide,  though  his  footing  at  the 
palace  was  by  no  means  so  intimate  as  it  had  been  in  the 
roistering  days  of  George  IV.  and  William  IV.  Of  course, 
her  Majesty's  own  volumes  and  Sir  Theodore  Martin's  Life 
of  the  Prince  Consort  are  of  primary  authority.  Interesting 
glimpses  are  to  be  caught  in  the  first  volume  of  Bishop  Wil- 
berforce's  Life,  ere  yet  his  tergiversation  in  the  matter  of 
Bishop  Hampden  had  forfeited  the  Royal  favour ;  and  the 
historian  of  the  future  will  probably  make  great  use  of  the 
Letters  of  Sarah  Lady  Lyttelton — Governess  to  the  Queen's 
children — which,  being  printed  for  private  circulation,  are 
unluckily  withheld  from  the  present  generation. 

A  pleasing  instance  of  the  ultra-German  etiquette  fomented 
by  Prince  Albert  was  told  me  by  an  eyewitness  of  the  scene. 
The  Prime  Minister  and  his  wife  were  dining  at  Buckingham 
Palace  very  shortly  after  they  had  received  an  addition  to 
their  family.  When  the  ladies  retired  to  the  drawing-room 
^fter  dinner,  the  Queen  said  most  kindly  to  the  Premier's 


212      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

wife,  "  I  know  you  are  not  very  strong  yet,  Lady ;  so 

I  beg  you  will  sit  down.     And,  when  the  Prince  comes  in, 

Lady  D shall  stand  in  front  of  you."     This  device  of 

screening  a  breach  of  etiquette  by  hiding  it  behind  the  portly 
figure  of  a  British  Matron  always  struck  me  as  extremely 
droll. 

Courtly  etiquette,  with  the  conditions  out  of  which  it 
springs  and  its  effect  upon  the  character  of  those  who  are 
subjected  to  it,  has,  of  course,  been  a  favourite  theme  of 
satirists  time  out  of  mind,  and  there  can  scarcely  be  a  more 
fruitful  one.  There  are  no  heights  to  which  it  does  not  rise, 
nor  depths  to  which  it  does  not  sink.  In  the  service  for  the 
Queen's  Accession  the  Christological  psalms  are  boldly  trans- 
ferred to  the  Sovereign  by  the  calm  substitution  of  "  her  "  for 
"  Him."  A  few  years  back — I  do  not  know  if  it  is  so  now — 
I  noticed  that  in  the  prayer-books  in  St.  George's  Chapel  at 
Windsor  all  the  pronouns  which  referred  to  the  Holy  Trinity 
were  spelt  with  small  letters,  and  those  which  referred  to  the 
Queen  with  capitals.  So  much  for  the  heights  of  etiquette, 
and  for  its  depths  we  will  go  to  Thackeray's  account  of  an 
incident  stated  to  have  occurred  on  the  birth  of  the  Duke  of 
Connaught : 

"  Lord  John  he  next  alights, 

And  who  comes  here  in  haste? 
The  Hero  of  a  Hundred  Fights, 

The  caudle  for  to  taste. 

"  Then  Mrs.  Lily  the  nuss, 

Towards  them  steps  with  joy ; 
Says  the  brave  old  Duke,  '  Come  tell  to  us. 
Is  it  a  gal  or  boy?' 

"  Says  Mrs.  L.  to  the  Duke, 

'Your  Grace,  it  is  a  Prince.' 
And  at  that  nurse's  bold  rebuke 
He  did  both  laugh  and  wince." 

Such  was  the  etiquette  of  the  Royal  nursery  in  1850;  but 
little  Princes,  even  though  ushered  into  the  world  under  such 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      213 

very  impressive  circumstances,  grow  up  into  something  not 
very  unlike  other  little  boys  when  once  they  go  to  school.  Of 
course,  in  former  days  young  Princes  were  educated  at  home 
by  private  tutors.  This  was  the  education  of  the  Queen's 
uncles  and  of  her  sons.  A  very  different  experience  has  been 
permitted  to  her  grandsons.  The  Prince  of  Wales's  boys,  as 
we  all  remember,  were  middies ;  Princess  Christian's  sons 
were  at  Wellington;  Prince  Arthur  of  Connaught  is  at  Eton. 
There  he  is  to  be  joined  next  year  by  the  little  Duke  of 
Albany,  who  is  now  at  a  private  school  in  the  New  Forest. 
He  has  among  his  schoolfellows  his  cousin  Prince  Alexander 
of  Battenberg,  of  whom  a  delightful  story  is  current  just  now.* 
Like  many  other  little  boys,  he  ran  short  of  pocket  money, 
and  wrote  an  ingenious  letter  to  his  august  Grandmother 
asking  for  some  slight  pecuniary  assistance.  He  received  in 
return  a  just  rebuke,  telling  him  that  little  boys  should  keep 
within  their  limits,  and  that  he  must  wait  till  his  allowance 
next  became  due.  Shortly  afterwards  the  undefeated  little 
Prince  resumed  the  correspondence  in  something  like  the 
following  form  :  "  My  dear  Grandmamma, — I  am  sure  you 
will  be  glad  to  know  that  I  need  not  trouble  you  for  any 
money  just  now,  for  I  sold  your  last  letter  to  another  boy 
here  for  30s." 

As  Royalty  emerges  from  infancy  and  boyhood  into  the 
vulgar  and  artificial  atmosphere  of  the  grown-up  world,  it  is 
daily  and  hourly  exposed  to  such  sycophancy  that  Royal 
persons  acquire,  quite  unconsciously,  a  habit  of  regarding 
every  subject  in  heaven  arid  earth  in  its  relation  to  them- 
selves. An  amusing  instance  of  this  occurred  a  few  years 
ago  on  an  occasion  when  one  of  our  most  popular  Princesses 
expressed  a  gracious  wish  to  present  a  very  smart  young 
gentleman  to  the  Queen.  This  young  man  had  a  remarkably 
gQod  opinion  of  himself;  was  the  eldest  son  of  a  peer,  and  a 
Member  of  Parliament ;  and  it  happened  that  he  was  also 
*  All  this  is  now  ancient  history.      1903. 


214      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

related  to  a  lady  who  belonged  to  one  of  the  Royal  House- 
holds.    So  the  Princess  led  the  young  exquisite  to  the  august 

presence,  and  then  sweetly  said,  "  I  present  Mr. ,  who 

is  " — not  Lord  Blank's  eldest  son  or  Member  for  Loamshire, 
but — "  nephew  to  dear  Aunt  Cambridge's  lady."  My  young 
friend  told  me  that  he  had  never  till  that  moment  realized 
how  completely  he  lacked  a  position  of  his  own  in  the  universe 
of  created  being. 


XXIII. 
LORD  BEACONSFIELD. 

ARCHBISHOP  TAIT  wrote  on  the  iilh  of  February 
■^~^  1877:  "Attended  this  week  the  opening  of  Parliament, 
the  Queen  being  present,  and  wearing  for  the  first  time, 
some  one  says,  her  crown  as  Empress  of  India.  Lord 
Beaconsfield  was  on  her  left  side,  holding  aloft  the  Sword 
of  State.  At  five  the  House  again  was  crammed  to  see 
him  take  his  seat;  and  Slingsby  Bethell,  equal  to  the 
occasion,  read  aloud  the  writ  in  very  distinct  tones.  All 
seemed  to  be  founded  on  the  model,  '  What  shall  be  done 
to  the  man  whom  the  king  delighteth  to  honour  ? ' " 

Je  ne  suis  pas  la  rose,  mais  fat  ve'cu  pres  (Telle.  For  the 
last  month  *  our  thoughts  have  been  fixed  upon  the  Queen 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  else;  but  now  the  regal  splendours 
of  the  Jubilee  have  faded.  The  majestic  theme  is,  in  fact, 
exhausted ;  and  we  turn,  by  a  natural  transition,  from  the 
Royal  Rose  to  its  subservient  primrose ;  from  the  wisest  of 
Sovereigns  to  the  wiliest  of  Premiers;  from  the  character, 
habits,  and  life  of  the  Queen  to  the  personality  of  that 
extraordinary  child  of  Israel  who,  though  he  was  not  the 
Rose,  lived  uncommonly  near  it ;  and  who,  more  than  any 
other  Minister  before  or  since  his  day,  contrived  to  identify 
himself  in  the  public  view  with  the  Crown  itself.  There  is 
nothing  invidious  in  this  use  of  a  racial  term.     It  was  one 

*  June  1897. 


2i6      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  Lord  Beaconsfield's  finest  qualities  that  he  laboured  all 
through  his  life  to  make  his  race  glorious  and  admired.  To 
a  Jewish  boy — a  friend  of  my  own — who  was  presented  to 
him  in  his  old  age  he  said :  "  You  and  I  belong  to  a  race 
which  knows  how  to  do  everything  but  fail." 

Is  Lord  Beaconsfield's  biography  ever  to  be  given  to 
the  world  ?  Not  in  our  time,  at  any  rate,  if  we  may  judge 
by  the  signs.  Perhaps  Lord  Rowton  finds  it  more  con- 
venient to  live  on  the  vague  but  splendid  anticipations  of 
future  success  than  on  the  admitted  and  definite  failure 
of  a  too  cautious  book.  Perhaps  he  finds  his  personal  dig- 
nity enhanced  by  those  mysterious  flittings  to  Windsor  and 
Osborne,  where  he  is  understood  to  be  comparing  manu- 
scripts and  revising  proofs  with  an  Illustrious  Personage. 
But  there  is  the  less  occasion  to  lament  Lord  Rowton's 
tardiness,  oecause  we  already  possess  Mr.  Froude's  admi- 
rable monograph  on  Lord  Beaconsfield  in  the  series  of  The 
Queen^s  Prime  Ministers,  and  an  extremely  clear-sighted 
account  of  his  relations  with  the  Crown  in  Mr.  Reginald 
Brett's  Yoke  of  Empire. 

My  present  purpose  is  not  controversial.  I  do  not  iniend 
to  estimate  the  soundness  of  Lord  Beaconsfield's  opinions 
or  the  permanent  value  of  his  political  work.  It  is  enough 
to  recall  what  the  last  German  Ambassador — Count  Miinster 
— told  me,  and  what,  in  a  curtailed  form,  has  been  so  often 
quoted.  Prince  Bismarck  said,  "I  think  nothing  of  their 
Lord  Salisbury.  He  is  only  a  lath  painted  to  look  like 
iron.  But  that  old  Jew  means  business?*  This  is  merely 
a~parenthesis.  I  am  at  present  concerned  only  with  Lord 
Beaconsfield's  personal  traits.  When  I  first  encountered 
him  he  was  already  an  old  man.  He  had  left  far  behind 
those  wonderful  days  of  the  black  velvet  dress-coat  lined 
with  white  satin,  the  "  gorgeous  gold  flowers  on  a  splendidly 
embroidered  waistcoat,"  the  jewelled  rings  worn  outside  the 
white  gloves,  the  evening  cane  of  ivory  inlaid  with  gold  and 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      217 

adorned  with  a  tassel  of  black  silk.  "  We  were  none  of  us 
fools,"  said  one  of  his  most  brilliant  contemporaries,  "  and 
each  man  talked  his  best;  but  we  all  agreed  that  the 
cleverest  fellow  in  the  party  was  the  young  Jew  in  the 
green  velvet  trousers."  Considerably  in  the  background, 
too,  were  the  grotesque  performances  of  his  rural  life,  when, 
making  up  for  the  character  of  a  country  gentleman,  he 
"  rode  an  Arabian  mare  for  thirty  miles  across  country  with- 
out stopping,"  attended  Quarter  Sessions  in  drab  breeches 
and  gaiters,  and  wandered  about  the  lanes  round  Hughenden 
pecking  up  primroses  with  a  spud. 

When  I  first  saw  Mr.  Disraeli,  as  he  then  was,  all  these 
follies  were  matters  of  ancient  history.  They  had  played 
their  part,  and  were  discarded.  He  was  dressed  much  like 
other  gentlemen  of  the  'Sixties — in  a  black  frock  coat,  gray 
or  drab  trousers,  a  waistcoat  cut  rather  low,  and  a  black 
cravat  which  went  once  round  the  neck  and  was  tied  in 
a  loose  bow.  In  the  country  his  costume  was  a  little  more 
adventurous.  A  black  velveteen  jacket,  a  white  waistcoat, 
a  Tyrolese  hat,  lent  picturesque  incident  and  variety  to  his 
appearance.  But  the  brilliant  colours  were  reserved  for 
public  occasions.  I  never  saw  him  look  better  than  in  his 
peer's  robes  of  scarlet  and  ermine  when  he  took  his  seat 
in  the  House  of  Lords,  or  more  amazing  than  when,  tightly 
buttoned  up  in  the  Privy  Councillor's  uniform  of  blue  and 
gold,  he  stood  in  the  "general  circle"  at  the  Drawing-room 
or  Levee.  In  his  second  Administration  he  looked  extraor. 
dinarily  old.  His  form  was  shrunk,  and  his  face  of  a 
death-like  pallor.  Ever  since  an  illness  in  early  manhood 
he  had  always  dyed  his  hair,  and  the  contrast  between  the 
artificial  blackness  and  the  natural  paleness  was  extremely 
startling.  The  one  sign  of  vitality  which  his  appearance 
presented  was  the  brilliancy  of  his  dark  eyes,  which  still 
flashed  with  penetrating  lustre. 

The  immense  powers  of  conversation  of  which  we  read 


2i8     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

so  much  in  his  early  days,  when  he  "  talked  like  a  racehorse 
approaching  the  winning  post,"  and  held  the  whole  company 
spellbound  by  his  tropical  eloquence,  had  utterly  vanished. 
He  seemed,  as  he  was,  habitually  oppressed  by  illness  or 
discomfort.  He  sat  for  hours  together  in  moody  silence. 
When  he  opened  his  lips  it  was  to  pay  an  elaborate  (and 
sometimes  misplaced)  compliment  to  a  lady,  or  to  utter 
an  epigrammatic  judgment  on  men  or  books,  which  recalled 
the  conversational  triumphs  of  his  prime.  Skill  in  phrase- 
making  was  perhaps  the  literary  gift  which  he  most  admired. 
In  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  shortly  before 
his  death  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  pathos,  "  You  are 
a  fortunate  man.  The  young  men  read  you;  they  no 
longer  read  me.  And  you  have  invented  phrases  which 
every  one  quotes — such  as  '  Philistinism '  and  *  Sweetness 
and  Light.'"  It  was  a  characteristic  compliment,  for  he 
dearly  loved  a  good  phrase.  From  the  necessities  of  his 
position  as  a  fighting  politician,  his  own  best  performances 
in  that  line  were  sarcasms ;  and  indeed  sarcasm  was  the 
gift  in  which  from  first  to  last,  in  public  and  in  private, 
in  writing  and  in  speaking,  he  peculiarly  excelled.  To  recall 
the  instances  would  be  to  rewrite  his  political  novels  and 
to  transcribe  those  attacks  on  Sir  Robert  Peel  which  made 
his  fame  and  fortune. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  when  quite  a  boy  to  be  present  at 
the  debates  in  the  House  of  Commons  on  the  Tory  Reform 
Bill  of  1867.  Never  were  Mr.  Disraeli's  gifts  of  sarcasm, 
satire,  and  ridicule  so  richly  displayed,  and  never  did  they 
find  so  responsive  a  subject  as  Mr.  Gladstone.  As  school- 
boys say,  "  he  rose  freely."  The  Bill  was  read  a  second  time 
without  a  division,  but  in  Committee  the  fun  waxed  fast  and 
furious,  and  was  marked  by  the  liveliest  encounters  between 
the  Leader  of  the  House  and  the  Leader  of  the  Opposition. 
At  the  conclusion  of  one  of  these  passages  of  arms  Mr. 
Disraeli  gravely  congratulated   himself  on   having  such   a 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      219 

substantial  piece  of  furniture  as  the  table  of  the  House 
between  himself  and  his  energetic  opponent.  In  May  1867 
Lord  Houghton  writes  thus  :  "  I  met  Gladstone  at  breakfast. 
He  seems  quite  awed  with  the  diabolical  cleverness  of  Dizzy, 
who,  he  says,  is  gradually  driving  all  ideas  of  political  honour 
out  of  the  House,  and  accustoming  it  to  the  most  revolting 
cynicism."  Was  it  cynicism,  or  some  related  but  more 
agreeable  quality,  which  suggested  Mr.  Disraeli's  reply  to 
the  wealthy  manufacturer,  newly  arrived  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  who  complimented  him  on  his  novels?  "  I  can't 
say  I've  read  them  myself.  Novels  are  not  in  my  line.  But 
my  daughters  tell  me  they  are  uncommonly  good."  "  Ah," 
said  the  Leader  of  the  House,  in  his  deepest  note,  "this, 
indeed,  is  fame."  The  mention  of  novels  reminds  me  of  a 
story  which  I  heard  twenty  years  ago,  when  Mr.  Mallock  pro- 
duced his  first  book — the  admirable  Neui  Republic.  A  lady 
who  was  his  constant  friend  and  benefactress  begged  Lord 
Beaconsfield  to  read  the  book  and  say  something  civil  about 
it.  The  Prime  Minister  replied  with  a  groan,  "  Ask  me  any- 
thing, dear  lady,  except  this.  I  am  an  old  man.  Do  not 
make  me  read  your  young  friend's  romances."  "  Oh,  but 
he  would  be  a  great  accession  to  the  Tory  party,  and  a  civil 
word  from  you  would  secure  him  for  ever."  "Oh — well, 
then,  give  me  a  pen  and  a  sheet  of  paper,"  and  sitting  down 

in  the  lady's  drawing-room,  he  wrote  :  "  Dear  Mrs.  , — 

I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  dine  with  you,  but  I  am  going  down 
to  Hughenden  for  a  week.  Would  that  my  solitude  could 
be  peopled  by  the  bright  creations  of  Mr.  Mallock's  fancy ! '' 
"  Will  that  do  for  your  young  friend  ? "  Surely,  as  an 
appreciation  of  a  book  which  one  has  not  read,  this  is 
absolutely  perfect. 

When  Lord  Beaconsfield  was  driven  from  oflSce  by  the 
General  Election  of  1880,  one  of  his  supporters  in  the  House 
of  Commons  begged  a  great  favour — "  May  I  bring  my  boy 
to  see  you,  and  will  you  give  him  some  word  of  counsel  which 


220      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

he  may  treasure  all  his  life  as  the  utterance  of  the  greatest 
Englishman  who  ever  lived  ?  "  Lord  Beaconsfield  groaned, 
but  consented.  On  the  appointed  day  the  proud  father 
presented  himself  with  his  young  hopeful  in  Lord  Beacons- 
field's  presence.  "  My  dear  young  friend,"  said  the  states- 
man, "  your  good  papa  has  asked  me  to  give  you  a  word  of 
counsel  which  may  serve  you  all  your  life.  Never  ask  who 
wrote  the  Letters  of  Junius,  or  on  which  side  of  Whitehall 
Charles  I.  was  beheaded ;  for  if  you  do  you  will  be  considered 
a  bore — and  that  is  something  too  dreadful  for  you  at  your 
tender  age  to  understand."  For  these  last  two  stories  I  by 
no  means  vouch.  They  belong  to  the  flotsam  and  jetsam 
of  ephemeral  gossip.  But  the  following,  which  I  regard 
as  eminently  characteristic,  I  had  from  Lord  Randolph 
Churchill. 

Towards  the  end  of  Lord  Beaconsfield's  second  Premier- 
ship a  younger  politician  asked  the  Premier  to  dinner.  It 
was  a  domestic  event  of  the  first  importance,  and  no  pains 
were  spared  to  make  the  entertainment  a  success.  When  the 
ladies  retired,  the  host  came  and  sat  where  the  hostess  had 
been,  next  to  his  distinguished  guest.  "  Will  you  have  some 
more  claret.  Lord  Beaconsfield?  "  "  No,  thank  you,  my  dear 
fellow.  It  is  admirable  wine — true  Falernian — but  I  have 
already  exceeded  my  prescribed  quantity,  and  the  gout  holds 
me  in  its  horrid  clutch."  When  the  party  had  broken  up, 
the  host  and  hostess  were  talking  it  over.  "  I  think  the  chief 
enjoyed  himself,"  said  the  host,  "  and  I  know  he  liked  his 
claret."  "  Claret !  "  exclaimed  the  hostess ;  "  why,  he  drank 
brandy-and-water  all  dinner-time." 

I  said  in  an  earlier  paragraph  that  Lord  Beaconsfield's 
flattery  was  sometimes  misplaced.  An  instance  recurs  to  my 
recollection.  He  was  staying  in  a  country  house  where  the 
whole  party  was  Conservative  with  the  exception  of  one 
rather  plain,  elderly  lady,  who  belonged  to  a  great  W^hig 
family.    The  Tory  leader  was  holding  forth  on  politics  to  an 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      221 

admiring  circle  when  the  Whig  lady  came  into  the  room. 
Pausing  in  his  conversation,  Lord  Beaconsfield  exclaimed, 
in  his  most  histrionic  manner,  "  But  hush  !  We  must  not 
continue  these  Tory  heresies  until  those  pretty  little  ears  have 
been  covered  up  with  those  pretty  little  hands  " — a  strange 
remark  under  any  circumstances,  and  stranger  still  if,  as  his 
friends  believed,  it  was  honestly  intended  as  an  acceptable 
compliment. 

Mr.  Brett,  who  shows  a  curious  sympathy  with  the  personal 
character  of  Lord  Beaconsfield,  acquits  him  of  the  charge  of 
flattery,  and  quotes  his  own  description  of  his  method  :  "  I 
never  contradict ;  I  never  deny ;  but  I  sometimes  forget." 
On  the  other  hand,  it  has  always  been  asserted  by  those  who 
had  the  best  opportunities  of  personal  observation  that  Lord 
Beaconsfield  succeeded  in  converting  the  dislike  with  which 
he  had  once  been  regarded  in  the  highest  quarters  into 
admiration  and  even  affection,  by  his  elaborate  and  studied 
acquiescence  in  every  claim,  social  or  political,  of  Royalty, 
and  by  his  unflagging .  perseverance  in  the  art  of  flattery. 
He  was  a  courtier,  not  by  descent  or  breeding,  but  by  genius. 
What  could  be  more  skilful  than  the  inclusion  of  Leaves  from 
the  Journal  of  .our  Life  in  the  Highlands  with  Coningsby  and 
Sybil  in  the  phrase  "  We  authors  "  ? — than  his  grave  declara- 
tion, "  Your  Majesty  is  the  head  of  the  literary  profession  "  ? 
— than  his  announcement  at  the  dinner-table  at  Windsor, 
with  reference  to  some  disputed  point  of  regal  genealogy, 
"  We  are  in  the  presence  of  probably  the  only  Person  in 
Europe  who  could  tell  us  "  ?  In  the  last  year  of  his  life  he 
said  to  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,  in  a  strange  burst  of  confidence 
which  showed  how  completely  he  realized  that  his  fall  from 
power  was  final,  "You  have  heard  me  accused  of  being  a 
flatterer.  It  is  true.  I  am  a  flatterer.  I  have  found  it  use- 
ful. Every  one  likes  flattery ;  and  when  you  come  to  Royalty 
you  should  lay  it  on  with  a  trowel."  In  this  business  Lord 
Beaconsfield  excelled.    Once,  sitting  at  dinner  by  the  Princess 


222     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  Wales,  he  was  trying  to  cut  a  hard  dinner-roll.  The  knife 
slipped  and  cut  his  finger,  which  the  Princess,  with  her 
natural  grace,  instantly  wrapped  up  in  her  handkerchief. 
The  old  gentleman  gave  a  dramatic  groan,  and  exclaimed, 
"  When  I  asked  for  bread  they  gave  me  a  stone ;  but  I  had 
a  Princess  to  bind  my  wounds." 

The  atmosphere  of  a  Court  naturally  suited  him,  and  he 
had  a  quaint  trick  of  transferring  the  grandiose  nomencla- 
ture of  palaces  to  his  own  very  modest  domain  of  Hughen- 
den.  He  called  his  simple  drawing-room  the  Saloon;  he 
styled  his  pond  the  Lake ;  he  expatiated  on  the  beauties  of 
the  terrace  walks,  and  the  "  Golden  Gate,"  and  the  *'  German 
Forest."  His  style  of  entertaining  was  more  showy  than 
comfortable.  Nothing  could  excel  the  grandeur  of  his 
state  coach  and  powdered  footmen ;  but  when  the  ice  at 
dessert  came  up  melting,  one  of  his  friends  exclaimed,  "  At 
last,  my  dear  Dizzy,  we  have  got  something  hot ; "  and  in 
the  days  when  he  was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  some 
critical  guest  remarked  of  the  soup  that  it  was  apparently 
made  with  Deferred  Stock.  When  Lady  Beaconsfield  died 
he  sent  for  his  agent  and  said,  "  I  desire  that  her  Lady- 
ship's remains  should  be  borne  to  the  grave  by  the  tenants 
of  the  estate."  Presently  the  agent  came  back  with  a 
troubled  countenance  and  said,  "  I  regret  to  say  there  are 
not  tenants  enough  to  carry  a  coffin." 

Lord  Beaconsfield's  last  years  were  tormented  by  a  bron- 
chial asthma  of  gouty  origin,  against  which  he  fought  with 
tenacious  and  uncomplaining  courage.  The  last  six  weeks 
of  his  life,  described  all  too  graphically  by  Dr.  Kidd  in  an 
article  in  the  Nineteenth  Century^  were  a  hand-to-hand 
struggle  with  death.  Every  day  the  end  was  expected,  and 
his  compatriot,  companion,  and  so-called  friend,  Bemal 
Osborne,  found  it  in  his  heart  to  remark,  "Ah,  overdoing 
it — as  he  always  overdid  everything." 

For  my  own  part,  I   never  was  numbered  amon^  Lord 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      223 

Beaconsfield's  friends,  and  I  regarded  the  Imperialistic  and 
pro-Turkish  policy  of  his  latter  days  with  an  equal  measure 
of  indignation  and  contempt.  But  I  place  his  political 
novels  among  the  masterpieces  of  Victorian  literature,  and 
I  have  a  sneaking  affection  for  the  man  who  wrote  the 
following  passage :  "  We  live  in  an  age  when  to  be  young  f 
and  to  be  indifferent  can  be  no  longer  synonymous.  We 
must  prepare  for  the  coming  hour.  The  claims  of  the 
Future  are  represented  by  suffering  millions,  and  the  Youth  | 
of  a  Nation  are  the  Trustees  of  Posterity." 


XXIV. 

FLATTERERS  AND  BORES. 

/~*AN  a  flatterer  be  flattered?  Does  he  instinctively 
^^^  recognize  the  commodity  in  which  he  deals?  And 
if  he  does  so  recognize  it,  does  he  enjoy  or  dislike  the 
application  of  it  to  his  own  case?  These  questions  are 
suggested  to  my  mind  by  the  ungrudging  tributes  paid  in  my 
last  chapter  to  Lord  Beaconsfield's  pre-eminence  in  the  art 
of  flattery. 

"Supreme  of  heroes,  bravest,  noblest,  best !" 

No  one  else  ever  flattered  so  long  and  so  much,  so  boldly 
and  so  persistently,  so  skilfully  and  with  such  success. 
And  it  so  happened  that  at  the  very  crisis  of  his  romantic 
career  he  became  the  subject  of  an  act  of  flattery  quite  as 
daring  as  any  of  his  own  performances  in  the  same  line,  and 
one  which  was  attended  with  diplomatic  consequences  of 
great  pith  and  moment. 

It  fell  out  on  this  wise.  When  the  Congress  of  the  Powers 
assembled  at  Berlin  in  the  summer  of  1878,  our  Ambassador 
in  that  city  of  stucco  palaces  was  the  loved  and  lamented 
Lord  Odo  Russell,  afterwards  Lord  Ampthill,  a  born  diplo- 
matist if  ever  there  was  one,  with  a  suavity  and  affectionate- 
ness  of  manner  and  a  charm  of  voice  which  would  have 
enabled  him,  in  homely  phrase,  to  whistle  the  bird  off"  the 
bough.  On  the  evening  before  the  formal  opening  of  the 
Congress  Lord  Beaconsfield  arrived  in  all  his  plenipotentiary 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      223 

glory,  and  was  received  with  high  honours  at  the  British 
Embassy.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  one  of  his  private 
secretaries  came  to  Lord  Odo  Russell  and  said,  "  Lord  Odo, 
we  are  in  a  frightful  mess,  and  we  can  only  turn  to  you  to 
help  us  out  of  it.  The  old  chief  has  determined  to  open 
the  proceedings  of  the  Congress  in  French.  He  has  written 
out  the  devil's  own  long  speech  in  French  and  learnt  it  by 
heart,  and  is  going  to  fire  it  off  at  the  Congress  to-morrow. 
We  shall  be  the  laughing-stock  of  Europe.  He  pronounces 
epicier  as  if  it  rhymed  with  overseer^  and  all  his  pronuncia- 
tion is  to  match.  It  is  as  much  as  our  places  are  worth  to 
tell  him  so.  Can  you  help  us  ?  "  Lord  Odo  listened  with 
amused  good  humour  to  this  tale  of  woe,  and  then  replied  : 
"  It  is  a  very  delicate  mission  that  you  ask  me  to  undertake, 
but  then  I  am  fond  of  delicate  missions.  I  will  see  what  I 
can  do."  And  so  he  repaired  to  the  state  bedroom,  where 
our  venerable  Plenipotentiary  was  beginning  those  elabo- 
rate processes  of  the  toilet  with  which  he  prepared  for  the 
couch.  "My  dear  Lord,"  began  Lord  Odo,  "a  dreadful 
rumour  has  reached  us."  "Indeed!  Pray  what  is  it?'' 
"  We  have  heard  that  you  intend  to  open  the  proceedir>gs 
to-morrow  in  French."  "  Well,  Lord  Odo,  what  of  that  ? " 
"  Why,  of  course,  we  all  know  that  there  is  no  one  in 
Europe  more  competent  to  do  so  than  yourself.  But  then, 
after  all,  to  make  a  French  speech  is  a  commonplace  accom- 
plishment. There  will  be  at  least  half  a  dozen  men  at  the 
Congress  who  could  do  it  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  well  as 
yourself.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  who  but  you  can  make 
an  English  speech  ?  All  these  Plenipotentiaries  have  come 
from  the  various  Courts  of  Europe  expecting  the  greatest 
intellectual  treat  of  their  lives  in  hearing  English  spoken  by 
its  greatest  living  master.  The  question  for  you,  my  dear 
Lord,  is — Will  you  disappoint  them  ?  "  Lord  Beaconsfield 
put  his  glass  in  his  eye,  fixed  his  gaze  on  Lord  Odo,  and 
then  said,  "  There  is  much  force  in  what  you  say.     I  will 


226     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

consider  the  point."  And  next  day  he  opened  the  proceed- 
ings in  English.  Now  the  psychological  conundrum  is  this 
■ — Did  he  swallow  the  flattery,  and  honestly  believe  that  the 
object  of  Lord  Odo's  appeal  was  to  secure  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  him  speak  English?  Or  did  he  see  through  the 
manoeuvre,  and  recognize  a  polite  intimation  that  a  French 
speech  from  him  would  throw  an  air  of  comedy  over  all  the 
proceedings  of  the  Congress,  and  perhaps  kill  it  with  ridi- 
cule ?  The  problem  is  well  fitted  to  be  made  the  subject  of 
a  Prize  Essay ;  but  personally  I  incline  to  believe  that  he 
saw  through  the  manoeuvre  and  acted  on  the  hint.  If  this 
be  the  true  reading  of  the  case,  the  answer  to  my  opening 
question  is  that  the  flatterer  cannot  be  flattered. 

We  saw  in  my  last  chapter  how  careful  Lord  Beaconsfield 
was,  in  the  great  days  of  his  political  struggles,  to  flatter 
every  one  who  came  within  his  reach.  To  the  same  effect 
is  the  story  that  when  he  was  accosted  by  any  one  who 
claimed  acquaintance  but  whose  face  he  had  forgotten  he 
always  used  to  inquire,  in  a  tone  of  affectionate  solicitude, 
"  And  how  is  the  old  complaint  ?  "  But  when  he  grew  older, 
and  had  attained  the  highest  objects  of  his  political  ambition, 
these  little  arts,  having  served  their  purpose,  were  discarded, 
like  the  green  velvet  trousers  and  tasselled  canes  of  his 
aspiring  youth.  There  was  no  more  use  for  them,  and  they 
were  dropped.  He  manifested  less  and  less  of  the  apostolic 
virtue  of  suffering  bores  gladly,  and  though  always  delightful 
to  his  intimate  friends,  he  was  less  and  less  inclined  to 
curry  favour  with  mere  acquaintances.  A  characteristic 
instance  of  this  latter  manner  has  been  given  to  the  world 
in  a  book  of  chit-chat  by  a  prosy  gentleman  whose  name 
it  would  be  unkind  to  recall. 

This  worthy  soul  narrates  with  artless  candour  that 
towards  the  end  of  Lord  Beaconsfield's  second  Administra- 
tion he  had  the  honour  of  dining  with  the  great  man,  whose 
political  follower  he  was,  at  the  Premier's  official  residence 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      227 

in  Downing  Street.  When  he  arrived  he  found  his  host 
looking  ghastly  ill,  and  apparently  incapable  of  speech.  He 
made  some  commonplace  remark  about  the  weather  or  the 
House,  and  the  only  reply  was  a  dismal  groan.  A  second 
remark  was  similarly  received,  and  the  visitor  then  abandoned 
the  attempt  in  despair.  "  I  felt  he  would  not  survive  the 
night.  Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  all  being  seated  at 
dinner,  I  observed  him  talking  to  the  Austrian  Ambassador 
with  extreme  vivacity.  During  the  whole  of  dinner  their 
conversation  was  kept  up  ;  I  saw  no  sign  of  flagging.  This 
is  difficult  to  account  for."  And  the  worthy  man  goes  on  to 
theorize  about  the  cause,  and  suggests  that  Lord  Beaconsfield 
was  in  the  habit  of  taking  doses  of  opium  which  were  so 
timed  that  their  effect  passed  off  at  a  certain  moment ! 

This  freedom  from  self-knowledge  which  bores  enjoy  is 
one  of  their  most  striking  characteristics.  One  of  the 
principal  clubs  in  London  has  the  misfortune  to  be  fre- 
quented by  a  gentleman  who  is  by  common  consent  the 
greatest  bore  and  buttonholer  in  London.  He  always 
reminds  me  of  the  philosopher  described  by  Sir  George 
Trevelyan,  who  used  to  wander  about  asking,  "  Why  are 
we  created  ?  Whither  do  we  tend  ?  Have  we  an  inner  con- 
sciousness ? "  till  all  his  friends,  when  they  saw  him  from 
afar,  used  to  exclaim,  *'  Why  was  Tompkins  created  ?  Is  he 
tending  this  way  ?  Has  he  an  inner  consciousness  that  he 
is  a  bore  ?  " 

Well,  a  few  years  ago  this  good  man,  on  his  return  from 
his  autumn  holiday,  was  telling  all  his  acquaintances  at  the 
club  that  he  had  been  occupying  a  house  at  the  Lakes  not 
far  from  Mr.  Ruskin,  who,  he  added,  was  in  a  very  melan- 
choly state.  "  I  am  truly  sorry  for  that,"  said  one  of  his 
hearers.  "  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  "  "  Well,"  replied 
the  buttonholer,  "  I  was  walking  one  day  in  the  lane  which 
separated  Ruskin's  house  from  mine,  and  I  saw  him  coming 
down  the  lane  towards  me.     The  moment  he  caught  sight 


228      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  me  he  darted  into  a  wood  which  was  close  by,  and  hid 
behind  a  tree  till  I  had  passed.  Oh,  very  sad  indeed."  But 
the  truly  pathetic  part  of  it  was  one's  consciousness  that 
what  Mr.  Ruskin  did  we  should  all  have  done,  and  that  not 
all  the  trees  in  Birnam  Wood  and  the  Forest  of  Arden  com- 
bined would  have  hidden  the  multitude  of  brother-clubmen 
who  sought  to  avoid  the  narrator. 

The  faculty  of  boring  belongs,  unhappily,  to  no  one 
period  of  life.  Age  cannot  wither  it,  nor  custom  stale  its 
infinite  variety.  Middle  life  is  its  heyday.  Perhaps  in- 
fancy is  free  from  it,  but  I  strongly  suspect  that  it  is  a  form 
of  original  sin,  and  shows  itself  very  early.  Boys  are 
notoriously  rich  in  it ;  with  them  it  takes  two  forms — the 
loquacious  and  the  awkward  ;  and  in  some  exceptionally 
favoured  cases  the  two  forms  are  combined.  I  once  was 
talking  with  an  eminent  educationist  about  the  charac- 
teristic qualities  produced  by  various  Public  Schools,  and 
when  I  asked  him  what  Harrow  produced  he  replied,  "A 
certain  shy  bumptiousness."  It  was  a  judgment  which 
wrung  my  Harrovian  withers,  but  of  which  I  could  not 
dispute  the  truth. 

One  of  the  forms  which  shyness  takes  in  boyhood  is  an 
inability  to  get  up  and  go.  When  Dr.  Vaughan  was  Head 
Master  of  Harrow,  and  had  to  entertain  his  boys  at  break- 
fast, this  inability  was  frequently  manifested,  and  was  met 
by  the  Doctor  in  a  most  characteristic  fashion.  When  the 
muffins  and  sausages  had  been  devoured,  the  perfunctory 
inquiries  about  the  health  of  "your  people"  made  and 
answered,  and  all  permissible  school  topics  discussed,  there 
used  to  ensue  a  horrid  silence,  while  "  Dr.  Blimber's  young 
friends  "  sat  tightly  glued  to  their  chairs.  Then  the  Doctor 
would  approach  with  Agag-like  delicacy,  and,  extending  his 
hand  to  the  shyest  and  most  loutish  boy,  would  say, "Must 
you  go  ?  Can't  you  stay  ? "  and  the  party  broke  up  with 
magical  celerity.   Such,  at  least,  was  our  Harrovian  tradition. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      229 

Nothing  is  so  refreshing  to  a  jaded  sense  of  humour  as 
to  be  the  recipient  of  one  of  your  own  stories  retold  with 
appreciative  fervour  but  with  all  the  point  left  out.  This 
was  my  experience  not  long  ago  with  reference  to  the  story 
of  Dr.  Vaughan  and  his  boy-bores  which  I  have  just  related. 
A  Dissenting  minister  was  telling  me,  with  extreme  satisfac- 
tion, that  he  had  a  son  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  He 
went  on  to  praise  the  Master,  Dr.  Butler,  whom  he  extolled 
to  the  skies,  winding  up  his  eulogy  with,  "  He  has  such  won- 
derful tact  in  dealing  with  shy  undergraduates."  I  began 
to  scent  my  old  story  from  afar,  but  held  my  peace  and 
awaited  results.  "You  know,"  he  continued,  "that  young 
men  are  sometimes  a  little  awkward  about  making  a  move 
and  going  away  when  a  party  is  over.  Well,  when  Dr.  Butler 
has  undergraduates  to  breakfast,  if  they  linger  inconveniently 
long  when  he  wants  to  be  busy,  he  has  such  a  happy  knack  of 
getting  rid  of  them.  It  is  so  tactful,  so  like  him.  He  goes 
up  to  one  of  them  and  says,  '  CarCt  you  go  ?  Must  you 
stayV  and  they  are  off  immediately."  So,  as  Macaulay 
says  of  Montgomery's  literary  thefts,  may  such  ill-got  gains 
ever  prosper. 

My  Dissenting  minister  had  a  congener  in  the  late  Lord 

P ,  who  was  a  rollicking  man  about  town  thirty  years 

ago,  and  was  famous,  among  other  accomplishments,  for  this 
peculiar  art  of  so  telling  a  story  as  to  destroy  the  point. 
When  the  large  house  at  Albert  Gate,  which  fronts  the 
French  Embassy  and  is  now  the  abode  of  Mr.  Arthur  Bassoon, 
was  built,  its  size  and  cost  were  regarded  as  prohibitive,  and 
some  social  wag   christened  it  "Gibraltar,  because  it  can 

never  be  taken."     Lord  P thought  that  this  must  be  an 

excellent  joke,  because  every  one  laughed  at  it ;  and  so  he 
ran  round  the  town  saying  to  each  man  he  met — "  I  say,  do 
you  know  what  they  call  that  big  house  at  Albert  Gate? 
They  call  it  Gibraltar,  because  it  can  never  be  let.  Isn't 
that  awfully  good  ? "     We  all  remember  an  innocent  riddle 


230     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  our  childhood — "Why  was  the  elephant  the  last  animal 
to  get  into  the  Ark  ?  " — to  which  the  answer  was,  "  Because 

he  had  to  pack  his  trunk."     Lord  P asked  the  riddle, 

and  gave  as  the  answer,  '*  Because  he  had  to  pack  his  port- 
manteau," and  was  beyond  measure  astonished  when  his 
hearers  did  not  join  in  his  uproarious  laughter.     Poor  Lord 

P !  he  was  a  fellow  of  infinite  jest,  though  not  always 

exactly  in  the  sense  that  he  intended.  If  he  had  only  known 
of  it,  he  might  with  advantage  have  resorted  to  the  conver- 
sational device  of  old  Samuel  Rogers,  who,  when  he  told  a 
story  which  failed  to  produce  a  laugh,  used  to  observe  in  a 
reflective  tone,  "  The  curious  part  of  that  story  is  that  stupid 
people  never  see  the  point  of  it,"  and  then  loud,  though 
belated,  guffaws  resounded  round  the  table. 


XXV. 

ADVERTISEMENTS. 

TATELY,  when  hunting  for  some  notes  which  I  had 
^—^  mislaid,  I  came  upon  a  collection  of  Advertisements. 
No  branch  of  literature  is  more  suggestive  of  philosophi- 
cal reflections.  I  take  my  specimens  quite  at  random,  just 
as  they  turn  up  in  my  diary,  and  the  first  which  meets 
my  eye  is  printed  on  the  sad  sea-green  of  the  Westminster 
Gazette : — 

"  Guardian,  whose  late  ward  merits  the  highest  en- 
comiums, seeks  for  him  the  position  of  Secretary  to  a 
Nobleman  or  Lady  of  Position :  one  with  literary  tastes 
preferred :  the  young  gentleman  is  highly  connected,  dis- 
tinguished-looking, a  lover  of  books,  remarkably  steady,  and 
exceptionally  well  read,  clever  and  ambitious  :  has  travelled 
much :  good  linguist,  photographer,  musician :  a  mode- 
rate fortune,  but  debarred  by  timidity  from  competitive 
examination." 

I  have  always  longed  to  know  the  fate  of  this  lucky  youth. 
Few  of  us  can  boast  of  even  "a  moderate  fortune,"  and 
fewer  still  of  such  an  additional  combination  of  gifts,  graces, 
and  accomplishments.  On  the  other  hand,  most  of  us,  at 
one  time  or  another  in  our  career,  have  felt  "  debarred 
by  timidity  from  competitive  examination."  But,  unluckily, 
we  have  had  fathers  of  our  flesh  which  corrected  us,  and 
college  dons  who  forced  us  to  face  the  agonies  of  the  Schools, 
instead  of  an  amiable  guardian  who  bestowed  on  us  "  the 


232      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

highest  encomiums,"  and  sought  to  plant  us  on  Ladies  ot 
Position,  "  with  literary  tastes  preferred." 

Another  case,  presenting  some  points  of  resemblance  to 
the  last,  but  far  less  favoured  by  fortune,  was  notified  to  the 
compassionate  world  by  the  Morning  Post  in  1889  : — 

"  Will  any  rich  person  take  a  gentleman  and  board  him  ? 
Of  good  family  :  age  27  :  good  musician  :  thoroughly  con* 
versant  with  all  ofifice-work  :  no  objection  to  turn  Jew :  lost 
his  money  through  dishonest  trustee  :  excellent  writer." 

I  earnestly  hope  that  this  poor  victim  of  fraud  has  long 
since  found  his  desired  haven  in  some  comfortable  Hebrew 
home,  where  he  can  exercise  his  skill  in  writing  and  office- 
work  during  the  day  and  display  his  musical  accomplish- 
ments after  the  family  supper.  I  have  known  not  a  few 
young  Gentiles  who  would  be  glad  to  be  adopted  on  similar 
terms. 

The  next  is  extracted  from  the  Manchester  Guardian  of 
1894:— 

"A  Child  of  God,  seeking  employment,  would  like  to 
take  charge  of  property  and  collect  rents  ;  has  a  slight  know- 
ledge of  architecture  and  sanitary ;  can  give  unexceptionable 
references;  age  31 ;  married." 

What  offers?  Very  few,  I  should  fear,  in  a  community 
so  shrewdly  commercial  as  Manchester,  where,  I  understand, 
religious  profession  is  seldom  taken  as  a  substitute  for 
technical  training.  The  mention  of  that  famous  city  re 
minds  me  that  not  long  ago  I  was  describing  Chetham 
College  to  an  ignorant  outsider,  who,  not  realizing  how  the 
name  was  spelt,  observed  that  it  sounded  as  if  Mr.  Squeers 
had  been  caught  by  the  Oxford  Movement  and  the  Gothic 
Revival,  and  had  sought  to  give  an  ecclesiastical  air  to  his 
famous  seminary  of  Dotheboys  Hall  by  transforming  it  into 
"  Cheat'em  College." 

That  immortal  pedagogue  owed  much  of  his  deserved 
success  to  his  skill  in  the  art  of  drawing  an  advertisement : — 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      233 

"At  Mr.  Wackford  Squeers's  Academy,  Dotheboys  Hall, 
at  the  delightful  village  of  Dotheboys,  near  Greta  Bridge,  in 
Yorkshire,  Youth  are  boarded,  clothed,  booked,  furnished 
with  pocket-money,  provided  with  all  necessaries,  instructed 
in  all  languages,  living  and  dead,  mathematics,  orthography, 
geometry,  astronomy,  trigonometry,  the  use  of  the  globes, 
algebra,  singlestick  (if  required),  writing,  arithmetic,  fortifica- 
tion, and  every  other  branch  of  classical  literature.  Terms, 
twenty  guineas  per  annum.  No  extras,  no  vacations,  and 
diet  unparalleled." 

Now,  mark  what  follows.  Wackford  Squeers  the  younger 
was,  as  we  all  know,  destined  by  his  parents  to  follow  the 
schoolmaster's  profession,  to  assist  his  father  as  long  as 
assistance  was  required,  and  then  to  take  the  management 
of  the  Hall  and  its  pupils  into  his  own  hands.  "  Am  I  to 
take  care  of  the  school  when  I  grow  up  a  man,  father  ?  "  said 
Wackford  junior.  "You  are,  my  son,"  replied  Mr.  Squeers  in  a 
sentimental  voice.  "  Oh,  my  eye,  won't  I  give  it  to  the  boys  ! " 
exclaimed  the  interesting  child,  grasping  his  father's  cane — 
"  won't  I  make  'em  squeak  again  !  "  But  we  know  also  that, 
owing  to  the  pressure  of  pecuniary  and  legal  difficulties,  and 
the  ill-timed  interference  of  Mr.  John  Browdie,  the  school  at 
Dotheboys  Hall  was  at  any  rate  temporarily  broken  up.  So 
far  we  have  authentic  records  to  rely  on ;  the  remainder  is 
pure  conjecture.  But  I  am  persuaded  that  Wackford  Squeers 
the  younger,  with  all  the  dogged  perseverance  of  a  true 
Yorkshireman,  struggled  manfully  against  misfortune;  re- 
solved to  make  a  home  for  his  parents  and  sister ;  and,  as 
soon  as  he  could  raise  the  needful  capital,  opened  a  private 
school  in  the  South  of  England,  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
scene  of  earlier  misfortune.  Making  due  allowance  for 
change  of  time  and  circumstances,  I  trace  a  close  similarity 
of  substance  and  style  between  the  advertisement  which  I 
quoted  above  and  that  which  I  give  below,  and  I  feel  per- 
suaded that  young  Wackford  inherited  from  his  more  famous 

Q 


234      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

father  this  peculiar  power  of  attracting  parental  confidence 
by  means  of  picturesque  statement.  We  have  read  the 
earlier  manifesto;  let  us  now  compare  the  later: — 

*'  Vacancies  now  occur  in  the  establishment  of  a  gentleman 
who  undertakes  the  care  and  education  of  a  few  backward 
boys,  who  are  beguiled  and  trained  to  study  by  kind  disci- 
pline, without  the  least  severity  (which  too  often  frustrates 
the  end  desired).  Situation  extremely  healthy.  Sea  and 
country  air ;  deep  gravelly  soil.  Christian  gentility  assidu- 
ously cultivated  on  sound  Church  principles.  Diet  unsur- 
passed. Wardrobes  carefully  preserved.  The  course  of 
instruction  comprises  English,  classics,  mathematics,  and 
science.  Inclusive  terms,  30  guineas  per  annum,  quarterly 
in  advance.     Music,   drawing,  and  modern  languages  are 

extras,    but   moderate.     Address    ,    Chichester." 

Was  it  Vivian  Grey  or  Pelham  who  was  educated  at  a 
private  school  where  "  the  only  extras  were  pure  milk  and 
the  guitar  "  ? 

I  believe  that  there  is  no  charitable  institution  which  more 
thoroughly  deserves  support  than  the  Metropolitan  Associa- 
tion for  Befriending  Young  Servants,  affectionately  contracted 
by  its  supporters  into  the  *'  MABYS."  Here  is  one  of  its 
advertisements,  from  which,  I  am  bound  to  say,  the  alluring 
skill  displayed  by  Mr.  Squeers  is  curiously  absent : — 

"  Will  any  one  undertake  as  Servant  a  bright,  clean,  neat 
girl,  who  is  deceitful,  lazy,  and  inclined  to  be  dishonest? 
Address,  Hon.  Secretary,  M.A.B.Y.S.,  21  Charlotte  Street, 
S.E." 

I  remember  some  years  ago  an  advertisement  which 
sought  a  kind  master  and  a  pleasant  home  for  a  large, 
savage  dog;  and  I  remember  how  admirably  Punch  de- 
scribed the  kind  of  life  which  the  "  large,  savage  dog  "  would 
lead  the  "kind  master"  when  he  got  him.  But  really  the 
vision  of  a  bright  maid-servant  who  is  "  deceitful,  lazy,  and 
inclined  to  be  dishonest,"  and  the  havoc  which  she  might 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      235 

work  in  a  well-ordered  household,  is  scarcely  less  appalling. 
A  much  more  deserving  case  is  this  which  I  append  : — 

"  Under- Housekeeper,  under-Matron,  desired  by  a  Young 
Woman,  age  22.  Energetic,  domesticated.  Great  mis- 
fortune in  losing  right  arm,  but  good  artificial  one.  Happy 
home,  with  small  remuneration." 

It  is  not,  I  fear,  in  my  power  to  make  a  contribution  of 
permanent  value  to  the  "  Great  Servant  Question."  But, 
having  given  instances  of  insufficient  qualification  in  people 
seeking  to  be  employed,  I  now  turn  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  account,  and,  after  perusing  what  follows,  would  respect- 
fully ask,  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ? 

"Can  any  lady  or  gentleman  recommend'a  Man  and  Wife 
(Church  of  England)  ?  Man  useful  indoors  and  out.  Prin- 
cipal duties  large  flower-garden,  small  conservatory,  draw 
bath-chair,  must  wait  at  table,  understand  lamps,  non~ 
smoker,  wear  dress  suit  except  in  garden.  Clothes  and 
beer  not  found.  Family,  lady  and  child,  lady-help.  House- 
parlourmaid  kept.  Must  not  object  to  small  bedroom. 
Wife  plain  cook  (good),  to  undertake  kitchen  offices,  dining- 
room,  and  hall  (wash  clothes).  Joint  wages  j/£so,  all 
found." 

Now  there  is  really  a  study  in  exacting  eccentricity  which 
Thackeray  might  have  made  the  subject  of  a  "  Roundabout 
Paper."  In  the  first  place,  the  two  servants  must  be  man 
and  wife — unmarried  people  need  not  apply — and  yet  they 
must  be  contented  with  a  small  bedroom.  The  family  con- 
sists of  a  lady  (apparently  an  invalid),  a  child,  a  lady-help, 
and  a  house-parlourmaid.  For  these  the  wife  must  cook, 
and  cook  well,  besides  cleaning  the  dining-room,  hall  and 
offices,  and  washing  the  clothes.  Her  husband,  yet  more 
accommodating,  must  attend  to  a  large  flower-garden  and  a 
small  conservatory,  must  draw  a  bath-chair,  wait  at  table  and 
clean  lamps.  After  all  these  varied  and  arduous  labours,  he 
is  denied  the  refreshment  of  a  pipe ;  but,  as  a  kind  of  com- 


236     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

pensation,  he  is  not  obliged  to  wear  his  dress  suit  when  he 
is  gardening  !  The  joint  wages  are  ;!^5o,  with  all  found  except 
clothes  and  beer ;  and  the  lucky  recipients  of  this  over- 
powering guerdon  must  be  members  of  the  Church  of 
England. 

This  last  requirement  reminds  me  of  a  letter  from  a  girl- 
emigrant  written  to  Lady  Laura  Ridding,  wife  of  the  Bishop 
of  Southwell,  who  had  befriended  her  at  home.  "Dear 
Madam, — I  hope  this  finds  you  as  well  as  it  leaves  me. 
The  ship'is  in  the  middle  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  it  is  fearfully 
hot.  I  am  in  a  terrible  state  of  melting  all  day  long.  But, 
honoured  Madam,  I  know  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear 
that  I  am  still  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England."  I 
hope  the  good  plain  cook  and  her  non-smoking,  bath-chair 
drawing,  large-gardening  husband  may  be  able  to  comfort 
themselves  with  the  same  reflection  when  the  varied  toils  of 
the  day  are  ended  and  they  seek  their  well-earned  repose  in 
the  "  small  bedroom." 

From  these  lowly  mysteries  of  domestic  life  I  pass  to  the 
Debatable  Land  between  servitude  and  gentility.  "Man 
AND  Wife,  superior  and  active,  seek,  in  gentleman's  family, 
PLACE  OF  trust;  country,  houseboat,  &c.  Wife  needle- 
woman or  Plain  Cook,  linen,  &c. :  man  ride  and  drive, 
waiting,  or  useful.  Can  teach  or  play  violin  in  musical 
family ;  sight-reader  in  classical  works.  Both  tall,  and  re- 
fined appearance." 

From  the  Debatable  Land  I  pass  on  to  the  exalted 
regions  of  courtly  life. 

*'  The  Great-niece  of  a  Lord  Chamberlain  to  King  George 
III.  REQUIRES  a  SITUATION  as  COMPANION  to  a  lady,  or 
Cicerone  to  young  ladies.  Her  mind  is  highly  cultivated. 
English  habits  and  Parisian  accent." 

"  Vieille  ecole  bonne  ^cole,  begad ! "  cried  Major  Pen- 
dennis,  and  here  would  have  been  a  companion  for  Mrs. 
Pendennis  or  a  cicerone  for  Laura  after  his  own  heart.     The 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      237 

austere  traditions  of  the  Court  of  George  III.  and  Queen 
Charlotte  might  be  expected  to  survive  in  the  great-niece  of 
their  Lord  Chamberlain ;  and  what  a  tactful  concession  to 
the  prejudices  of  Mrs.  Grundy  in  the  statement  that,  though 
the  accent  may  be  Parisian,  the  habits  are  English  !  This 
excellent  lady — evidently  a  near  relation  to  Mrs.  General  in 
Little  Dorrit — reintroduces  us  to  the  genteel  society  in  which 
we  are  most  at  home ;  and  here  I  may  remark  that  the  love 
of  aristocracy  which  is  so  marked  and  so  amiable  a  feature  of 
our  national  character  finds  its  expression  not'  only  in  the 
advertisement  columns,  but  in  the  daily  notices  of  deaths 
and  marriages.  For  example  :  "  On  the  22nd  inst.,  at 
Lisbon,  William  Thorold  Wood,  cousin  to  the  Bishop  of 
Rochester,  to  Sir  John  Thorold  of  Syston  Park,  and 
brother  to  the  Rector  of  Widmerpool.  He  was  a  man  of 
great  mental  endowments  and  exemplary  conduct."  I  dare 
say  he  was,  but  I  fear  they  would  have  gone  unrecorded  had 
it  not  been  for  the  more  impressive  fact  that  he  was  kinsman 
to  a  Bishop  and  a  Baronet. 

While  we  are  on  the  subject  of  Advertisements  a  word 
must  be  said  about  the  Medical  branch  of  this  fine  art; 
and  knowing  the  enormous  fortunes  which  have  often  been 
made  out  of  a  casual  prescription  for  acne  or  alopecia^  I 
freely  place  at  the  disposal  of  any  aspiring  young  chemist 
who  reads  this  paper  the  following  tale  of  enterprise  and 
success.  A  few  years  ago,  according  to  the  information 
before  me,  a  London  doctor  had  a  lady  patient  who  com- 
plained of  an  incessant  neuralgia  in  her  face  and  jaw.  The 
doctor  could  detect  nothing  amiss,  but  exhausted  his  skill, 
his  patience,  and  his  remedies  in  trying  to  comfort  the  com- 
plainant, who,  however,  refused  to  be  comforted.  At  length, 
being  convinced  that  the  case  was  one  of  pure  hypochondria, 
he  wrote  to  the  afflicted  lady,  saying  that  he  did  not  feel 
justified  in  any  longer  taking  her  money  for  a  case  which 
was  evidently  beyond  his  powers,  but  recommended  her  to 


238     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

try  change  of  air,  live  in  the  country,  and  trust  to  that  edax 
rerum  which  sooner  or  later  cures  all  human  ills. 

The  lady  departed  in  sorrow,  but  in  faith ;  obeyed  her 
doctor's  instructions  to  the  letter,  and  established  herself  not 
a  hundred  miles  from  the  good  city  of  Newcastle.  Once 
established  there,  her  first  care  was  to  seek  the  local  chemist 
and  to  place  her  doctor's  letter  in  his  hands.  A  smart  young 
assistant  was  presiding  at  the  counter ;  he  read  the  doctor's 
letter,  and  promptly  made  up  a  bottle  which  he  labelled 
"  Edax  Rerum.  To  be  taken  twice  a  day  before  meals," 
and  for  which  he  demanded  7s.  6d.  The  lady  rejoicingly 
paid,  and  requested  that  a  similar  bottle  might  be  sent  to 
her  every  week  till  further  notice.  She  continued  to  use 
and  to  pay  for  this  specific  for  a  year  and  a  half,  and  then, 
finding  her  neuralgia  considerably  abated,  she  came  up  to 
London  for  a  week's  amusement.  Full  of  gratitude,  she 
called  on  her  former  doctor,  and  said  that,  though  she  had 
felt  a  little  hurt  at  the  abrupt  manner  in  v.hich  he  had  dis- 
missed so  old  a  patient,  still  she  could  not  forbear  to  tell 
him  that  his  last  prescription  had  done  her  far  more  good 
than  any  of  its  predecessors,  and  that,  indeed,  she  now  re- 
garded herself  as  practically  cured.  Explanations  followed ; 
inquiries  were  set  on  foot ;  the  chemist's  assistant  sailed  for 
South  Africa ;  and  "  Edax  Rerum "  is  now  largely  in  de- 
mand among  the  unlettered  heroes  who  bear  the  banner  of 
the  Chartered  Company. 

That  combination  of  pietism  with  money-making,  which 
critics  of  our  national  character  tell  us  is  so  peculiarly  British, 
was  well  illustrated  in  the  Christian  Million  of  September 
22,  1898  : — 

"  Bethesda,  Hest  Bank.  Beautiful  country  home,  near 
the  sea.  Christian  fellowship.  3s.  per  day.  Sickly  per- 
sons desiring  to  trust  the  Lord  will  be  considered  financially. 
Apply  Miss .     Stamped  Envelope." 

When  poetry  is  forced  into  the  service  of  advertisements, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      239 

the  result  is  peculiarly  gratifying.  This  is  an  appeal  for 
funds  to  repair  the  church  in  which  Nelson's  father  offici- 
ated : — 

"  The  man  who  first  taught  Englishmen  their  duty. 
And  fenced  with  wooden  walls  his  native  isle, 
Now  asks  ONE  SHILLING  to  preserve  in  beauty 
The  Church  that  brooded  o'er  his  infant  smile."  * 

An  electioneering  address  is,  in  its  essence,  an  advertise- 
ment ;  and  in  this  peculiar  branch  of  literature  it  would  be 
difficult  to  excel  the  following  manifesto  recently  issued  by 
a  clergyman  when  candidate  for  a  benefice  to  which  the 
appointment  is  by  popular  election  : — 

"  I  appeal  with  the  utmost  confidence  for  the  full  support 
of  the  Irish  and  Roman  Catholics,  because  I  am  a  Son 
of  the  Emerald  Isle;  to  Foreigners,  because  they  love 
Ireland;  to  High  Church,  Low  Church,  and  Broad 
Church,  because  I  am  tolerant  to  all  parties;  to  Noncon- 
formists, because  I  have  stated  in  my  pamphlet  on  Reunion 
that  they  are  "the  salt  of  the  earth  and  the  light  of  the 
world ; "  to  Jews,  because  my  love  for  the  Children  of 
Promise  is  well  known;  to  Atheists,  because  they  have 
often  heard  me  in  Hyde  Park  telling  them  of  the  Author  of 
Nature  in  its  endless  beauties ; — to  one  and  all  I  appeal  with 
the  utmost  confidence,  and  feel  sure  that  the  whole  electorate 
will  vote  for  me  and  do  themselves  honour,  when  they  con- 
sider who  I  am,  and  when  a  person  of  my  social  and 
ecclesiastical  standing  allowed  my  name  at  all  to  be  men- 
tioned for  a  popular  election." 

I  am  thankful  to  say  that  this  "  Son  of  the  Emerald  Isle  " 
was  left  at  the  bottom  of  the  poll. 

*  Kindly  communicated  by  "J.  C.  C." 


XXVI. 

PARODIES  IN  PROSE. 

"  T)ARODY,"  wrote  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  in  1882,  "is  a 
•^  vile  art,  but  I  must  say  I  read  Poor  Matthias  in  the 
JVor/d  with  an  amused  pleasure."  It  was  a  generous  apprecia- 
tion, for  the  original  Poor  Matthias — an  elegy  on  a  canary — 
is  an  exquisite  poem,  and  the  World's  parody  of  it  is  a  rather 
dull  imitation.  On  the  whole,  I  agree  with  Mr.  Arnold  that 
parody  is  a  vile  art ;  but  the  dictum  is  a  little  too  sweeping. 
A  parody  of  anything  really  good,  whether  in  prose  or  verse, 
is  as  odious  as  a  burlesque  o^  Hamlet ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  parody  is  the  appropriate  punishment  for  certain  kinds 
of  literary  affectation.  There  are,  and  always  have  been, 
some  styles  of  poetry  and  of  prose  which  no  one  endowed 
with  an  ear  for  rhythm  and  a  sense  of  humour  could  forbear 
to  parody.  Such,  to  a  generation  brought  up  on  Milton 
and  Pope,  were  the  styles  of  the  various  poetasters  satirized 
in  Rejected  Addresses ;  but  excellent  as  are  the  metrical 
parodies  in  that  famous  book,  the  prose  is  even  better. 
Modern  parodists,  of  whom  I  will  speak  more  particularly 
in  a  future  chapter,  have,  I  think,  surpassed  such  poems  as 
The  Baby's  D3ut  and  A  Tale  of  Drury  Lane,  but  in  the 
far  more  difficult  art  of  imitating  a  prose  style  none  that 
I  know  of  has  even  approached  the  author  of  the  Hamp- 
shire Parmer's  Address  axid  Johnson^ s  Ghost.     Does  any  one 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      241 

read  William  Cobbett  nowadays?  If  so,  let  him  compare 
what  follows  with  the  recorded  specimens  of  Cobbett's  public 
speaking : — 

"  Most  thinking  People, — When  persons  address  an  audi- 
ence from  the  stage,  it  is  usual,  either  in  words  or  gesture, 
to  say,  '  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  your  servant.'  If  I  were 
base  enough,  mean  enough,  paltry  enough,  and  brute  beast 
enough  to  follow  that  fashion,  I  should  tell  two  lies  in  a 
breath.  In  the  first  place,  you  are  not  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
but,  I  hope,  something  better — that  is  to  say,  honest  men 
and  women ;  and,  in  the  next  place,  if  you  were  ever  so 
much  ladies,  and  ever  so  much  gentlemen,  I  am  not,  nor 
ever  will  be,  your  humble  servant." 

With  Dr.  Johnson's  style — supposing  we  had  ever  for- 
gotten its  masculine  force  and  its  balanced  antitheses — we 
have  been  made  again  familiar  by  the  erudite  labours  of  Dr. 
Birkbeck  Hill  and  Mr.  Augustine  Birrell.  But  even  those 
learned  critics  might,  I  think,  have  mistaken  a  copy  for  an 
original  if  in  some  collection  of  old  speeches  they  had  lighted 
on  the  ensuing  address  : — 

"  That  which  was  organized  by  the  moral  ability  of  one 
has  been  executed  by  the  physical  efforts  of  many,  and 
Drurv  Lane  Theatre  is  now  complete.  Of  that  part 
behind  the  curtain,  which  has  not  yet  been  destined  to  glow 
beneath  the  brush  of  the  varnisher  or  vibrate  to  the  hammer 
of  the  carpenter,  little  is  thought  by  the  public,  and  little 
need  be  said^  by  the  Committee.  Truth,  however,  is  not  to 
be  sacrificed  to  the  accommodation  of  either,  and  he  who 
should  pronounce  that  our  edifice  has  received  its  final 
embellishment  would  be  disseminating  falsehood  without 
incurring  favour,  and  risking  the  disgrace  of  detection  with- 
out participating  the  advantage  of  success." 

An  excellent  morsel  of  Johnsonese  prose  belongs  to  a 
more  recent  date.  It  became  current  about  the  time  when 
the   scheme   of  Dr.    Murray's    Dictionary   of  the    English 


242      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Language  was  first  made  public.  It  took  the  form  of  a 
dialogue  between  Dr.  Johnson  and  Boswell : — 

"  Boswell.  Pray,  sir,  what  would  you  say  if  you  were  told 
that  the  next  dictionary  of  the  English  language  would  be 
written  by  a  Scotsman  and  a  Presbyterian  domiciled  at 
Oxford? 

"  Dr.  f.  Sir,  in  order  to  be  facetious  it  is  not  necessary 
to  be  indecent." 

When  Bulwer-Lytton  brought  out  his  play  Not  so  Bad  as 
we  Seem,  his  friends  pleasantly  altered  its  title  to  Not  so  Good 
as  we  Expected.  And  when  a  lady's  newspaper  advertised  a 
work  called  "  How  to  Dress  on  Fifteen  Pounds  a  Year,  as  a 
Lady.  By  a  Lady,"  Punch  was  ready  with  the  characteristic 
parody :  "  How  to  Dress  on  Nothing  a  Year,  as  a  Kaffir. 
By  a  Kaffir." 

Mr.  Gladstone's  authority  compels  me  to  submit  the 
ensuing  imitation  of  Macaulay — the  most  easily  parodied  of 
all  prose  writers — 'to  the  judgment  of  my  readers.  It  was 
written  by  the  late  Abraham  Hayward.  Macaulay  is  con- 
trasting, in  his  customary  vein  of  overwrought  and  over- 
coloured  detail,  the  evils  of  arbitrary  government  with  those 
of  a  debased  currency  : — 

"The  misgovernment  of  Charles  and  James,  gross  as  it 
had  been,  had  not  prevented  the  common  business  of  life 
from  going  steadily  and  prosperously  on. 

"  While  the  honour  and  independence  of  the  State  were 
sold  to  a  foreign  Power,  while  chartered  rights  were  invaded, 
while  fundamental  laws  were  violated,  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  quiet,  honest,  and  industrious  families  laboured  and  traded, 
ate  their  meals,  and  lay  down  to  rest  in  comfort  and  security. 
Whether  Whig  or  Tories,  Protestants  or  Jesuits  were  upper- 
most, the  grazier  drove  his  beasts  to  market ;  the  grocer 
weighed  out  his  currants ;  the  draper  measured  out  his 
broadcloth ;  the  hum  of  buyers  and  sellers  was  as  loud  as 
ever  in  the  towns;    the   harvest-home  was   celebrated   as 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      243 

joyously  as  ever  in  the  hamlets ;  the  cream  overflowed  the 
pails  of  Cheshire ;  the  apple  juice  foamed  in  the  presses  of 
Herefordshire ;  the  piles  of  crockery  glowed  in  the  furnaces 
of  the  Trent ;  and  the  barrows  of  coal  rolled  fast  along  the 
timber  railways  of  the  Tyne. " 

This  reads  like  a  parody,  but  it  is  a  literal  transcript  of  the 
original ;  and  Hayward  justly  observes  that  there  is  no  reason 
why  this  rigmarole  should  ever  stop,  as  long  as  there  is  a 
trade,  calling,  or  occupation  to  be  particularized.  The  pith 
of  the  proposition  (which  needed  no  proof)  is  contained  in 
the  first  sentence.     Why  not  continue  thus  ? — 

"  The  apothecary  vended  his  drugs  as  usual ;  the  poulterer 
crammed  his  turkeys ;  the  fishmonger  skinned  his  eels  ;  the 
wine  merchant  adulterated  his  port ;  as  many  hot-cross  buns 
as  ever  were  eaten  on  Good  Friday,  as  many  pancakes  on 
Shrove  Tuesday,  as  many  Christmas  pies  on  Christmas  Day ; 
on  area  steps  the  domestic  drudge  took  in  her  daily  penny- 
worth of  the  chalky  mixture  which  Londoners  call  milk ; 
through  area  bars  the  feline  tribe,  vigilant  as  ever,  watched 
the  arrival  of  the  cat's-meat  man;  the  courtesan  flaunted  in 
the  Haymarket ;  the  cab  rattled  through  the  Strand ;  and, 
from  the  suburban  regions  of  Fulham  and  Putney,  the  cart 
of  the  market  gardener  wended  its  slow  and  midnight  way 
along  Piccadilly  to  deposit  its  load  of  cabbages  and  turnips 
in  Covent  Garden," 

Twice  has  Mr.  Gladstone  publicly  called  attention  to  the 
merits  of  this  "effective  morsel  of  parody,"  as  he  styles  it; 
and  he  judiciously  adds  that  what  follows  (by  the  late  Dean 
Hook)  is  "a  like  attempt,  but  less  happy."  Most  people 
remember  the  attack  on  the  constitution  of  the  Court  of 
Chancery  in  the  preface  to  Bleak  House.  Dean  Hook,  in  a 
laudable  attempt  to  soothe  the  rufiled  feelings  of  his  old 
friend  Vice-Chancellor  Page  Wood,  of  whom  Dickens  in 
that  preface  had  made  fun,  thus  endeavours  to  translate  the 
accusation  into  Macaulayese : — 


244      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

"REIGN   OF  VICTORIA— 1856. 
"The  Courts  of  Justice. 

"  The  Court  of  Chancery  was  corrupt.  The  guardian  of 
lunatics  was  the  cause  of  insanity  to  the*  suitors  in  his  court. 
An  attempt  at  reform  was  made  when  Wood  was  Solicitor- 
General.  It  consisted  chiefly  in  increasing  the  number  of 
judges  in  the  Equity  Court.  Government  was  pleased  by  an 
increase  of  patronage ;  the  lawyers  approved  of  the  new  pro- 
fessional prizes.  The  Government  papers  applauded.  Wood 
became  Vice-Chancellor.  At  the  close  of  1855  the  Equity 
Courts  were  without  business.  People  had  become  weary  of 
seeking  justice  where  justice  was  not  to  be  found.  The  state 
of  the  Bench  was  unsatisfactory.  Cranworth  was  feeble; 
Knight  Bruce,  though  powerful,  sacrificed  justice  to  a  joke ; 
Turner  was  heavy ;  Romilly  was  scientific  ;  Kindersley  was 
slow;  Stuart  was  pompous;  Wood  was  at  Bealings." 

If  I  were  to  indulge  in  quotations  from  well-known  parodies 
of  prose,  this  chapter  would  soon  overflow  all  proper  limits. 
I  forbear,  therefore,  to  do  more  than  remind  my  readers  of 
Thackeray's  Novels  by  Eminent  Hands  and  Bret  Harte's 
Sensation  Novels,  only  remarking,  with  reference  to  the  latter 
book,  that  "  Miss  Mix "  is  in  places  really  indistinguishable 
from  Jane  Eyre.  The  sermon  by  Mr.  Jowett  in  Mr.  Mallock's 
New  Republic  is  so  perfect  an  imitation,  both  in  substance 
and  in  style,  that  it  suggested  to  some  readers  the  idea  that 
it  had  been  reproduced  from  notes  of  an  actual  discourse. 
On  spoken  as  distinguished  from  written  eloquence  there 
are  some  capital  skits  in  the  Anti-Jacobin,  where  (under  the 
name  of  Macfungus)  excellent  fun  is  made  of  the  too  mel- 
lifluous eloquence  of  Sir  James  Mackintosh. 
'  The  differentiating  absurdities  of  after-dinner  oratory  are 
photographed  in  Thackeray's  Dinner  in  the  City,  where  the 
speech  of  the  American  Minister  seems  to  have  formed  amodel 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      245 

for  a  long  series  of  similar  performances.  Dickens's  experience 
as  a  reporter  in  the  gallery  of  the  House  of  Commons  had 
given  him  a  perfect  command  of  that  peculiar  style  of  speak- 
ing which  is  called  Parliamentary,  and  he  used  it  with  great 
effect  in  his  accounts  of  the  inaugural  meeting  of  the  "  United 
Metropolitan  Improved  Hot  Muffin  and  Crumpet  Baking  and 
Punctual  Delivery  Company "  in  Nicholas  Nickleby  (where 
he  introduces  a  capital  sketch  of  Tom  Duncombe,  Radical 
Member  for  Finsbury) ;  and  in  the  interview  between  Mr. 
Gregsbury,  M.P.,  and  his  constituents  in  a  later  chapter  of 
the  same  immortal  book. 

The  parliamentary  eloquence  of  a  later  day  was  admirably 
reproduced  in  Mr.  Edward  Jenkins's  prophetic  squib  (pub- 
lished in  1872)  Barney  Geogkegan,  M.P.,  and  Home  Rule  at 
St.  Stephen's.  As  this  clever  little  book  has,  I  fear,  lapsed 
into  complete  oblivion,  I  venture  to  cite  a  passage.  It  will 
vividly  recall  to  the  memory  of  middle-aged  politicians  the 
style  and  tone  of  the  verbal  duels  which,  towards  the  end  of 
Mr.  Gladstone's  first  Administration,  took  place  so  frequently 
between  the  Leader  of  the  House  and  the  Leader  of  the 
Opposition.  Mr.  Geoghegan  has  been  returned,  a  very 
early  Home  Ruler,  for  the  Borough  of  Rashkillen,  and  for 
some  violent  breaches  of  order  is  committed  to  the  custody 
of  the  Sergeant-at-Arms.  On  this  the  leader  of  the  House 
rises  and  addresses  the  Speaker  : — 

"  Sir, — The  House  cannot  but  sympathize  with  you  in  the 
eloquent  and  indignant  denunciation  you  have  uttered  against 
the  painful  invasion  of  the  decorum  of  the  House  which  we 
have  just  witnessed.  There  can  be  no  doubt  in  any  mind, 
even  in  the  minds  of  those  with  whom  the  hon.  member  now 
at  the  bar  usually  acts,  that  of  all  methods  of  argument  which 
could  be  employed  in  this  House,  he  has  selected  the  least 
politic.  Sir,  may  I  be  permitted,  with  great  deference,  to  say 
a  word  upon  a  remark  that  fell  from  the  Chair,  and  which 
might  be  misunderstood  ?     Solitary  and  anomalous  instances 


246      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  this  kind  could  never  be  legitimately  used  as  arguments 
against  general  systems  of  representation  or  the  course  of  a 
recent  policy.  I  do  not,  at  this  moment,  venture  to  pro- 
nounce an  opinion  upon  the  degree  of  criminality  that  at- 
taches to  the  hon.  member  now  unhappily  in  the  custody  of 
the  Officer  of  the  House.  It  is  possible — I  do  not  say  it  is 
probable,  I  do  not  now  say  whether  I  shall  be  prepared  to 
commit  myself  to  that  hypothesis  or  not — but  it  is  not  im- 
possible that  the  hon.  member  or  some  of  his  friends  may  be 
able  to  urge  some  extenuating  circumstances — (Oh  !  oh  !) — 
I  mean  circumstances  that,  when  duly  weighed,  may  have  a 
tendency  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  to  modify  the  judgment 
of  the  House  upon  the  extraordinary  event  that  has  occurred. 
Sir,  it  becomes  a  great  people  and  a  great  assembly  like  this 
to  be  patient,  dignified,  and  generous.  The  honourable 
member,  whom  we  regret  to  see  in  his  present  position,  no 
doubt  represents  a  phase  of  Irish  opinion  unfamiliar  to  this 
House.  (Cheers  and  laughter.)  .  .  .  The  House  is  natu- 
rally in  a  rather  excited  state  after  an  event  so  unusual,  and 
I  venture  to  urge  that  it  should  not  hastily  proceed  to  action. 
We  must  be  careful  of  the  feelings  of  the  Irish  people.  (Oh ! 
oh !)  If  we  are  to  govern  Ireland  according  to  Irish  ideas, 
we  must  make  allowance  for  personal,  local,  and  transitory 
ebullitions  of  Irish  feeling,  having  no  general  or  universal 
consequence  or  bearing.  .  .  .  The  course,  therefore,  which 
I  propose  to  take  is  this — to  move  that  the  hon.  member 
shall  remain  in  the  custody  of  the  Sergeant-at-Arms,  that  a 
Committee  be  appointed  to  take  evidence,  and  that  their 
report  be  discussed  this  day  month." 

To  this  replies  the  Leader  of  the  Opposition  : — 
"  The  right  hon.  gentleman  is  to  be  congratulated  on  the 
results  of  his  Irish  policy.  (Cheers  and  laughter.)  .  .  .  Sir, 
this,  I  presume,  is  one  of  the  right  hon.  gentleman's  con- 
tented and  pacified  people  !  I  deeply  sympathize  with  the 
right  hon.  gentleman.     His  policy  produces  strange  and  por- 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      247 

tentous  results.  A  policy  of  concession,  of  confiscation,  of 
truckling  to  ecclesiastical  arrogance,  to  popular  passions  and 
ignorant  prejudices,  of  lenity  to  Fenian  revolutionists,  has  at 
length  brought  us  to  this,  that  the  outrages  of  Galway  and 
Tipperary,  no  longer  restricted  to  those  charming  counties, 
no  longer  restrained  to  even  Her  Majesty's  judges,  are  to 
reach  the  interior  of  this  House  and  the  august  person  of  its 
Speaker.  (Cheers.)  Sir,  I  wash  my  hands  of  all  responsi- 
bility for  this  absurd  and  anomalous  state  of  things.  When- 
ever it  has  fallen  to  the  Tory  party  to  conduct  the  affairs  of 
Ireland,  they  have  consistently  pursued  a  policy  of  mingled 
firmness  and  conciliation  with  the  most  distinguished  success. 
All  the  great  measures  of  reform  in  Ireland  may  be  said  to 
have  had  their  root  in  the  action  of  the  Tory  party,  though, 
as  usual,  the  praise  has  been  appropriated  by  the  right  hon. 
gentleman  and  his  allies.  We  have  preferred,  instead  of 
truckling  to  prejudice  or  passion,  to  appeal,  and  we  still 
appeal,  to  the  sublime  instincts  of  an  ancient  people  !  " 

I  hope  that  an  unknown  author,  whose  skill  in  reproducing 
an  archaic  style  I  heartily  admire,  will  forgive  me  for  quoting 
the  following  narrative  of  certain  doings  decreed  by  the 
General  Post  Office  on  the  occasion  of  the  Jubilee  of  the 
Penny  Post.  Like  all  that  is  truly  good  in  literature,  it  will 
be  seen  that  this  narrative  was  not  for  its  own  time  alone, 
but  for  the  future,  and  has  its  relevancy  to  events  of  the 
present  day :  * 

"  I.  Now  it  came  to  pass  in  the  month  June  of  the  Post- 
office  Jubilee,  that  Raikes,  the  Postmaster-General,  said  to 
himself,  Lo  !  an  opening  whereby  I  may  find  grace  in  the 
sight  of  the  Queen  ! 

"  2.  And  Raikes  appointed  an  Executive  Committee ; 
and  Baines,  the  Inspector-General  of  Mails,  made  he 
Chairman. 

"  3.  He  called  also  Cardin,  the  Receiver  and  Accountant- 
*  June  1897. 


248      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

General ;  Preece,  Lord  of  Lightning ;  Thompson,  the  Secre- 
tarial Officer ;  and  Tombs,  the  Controller. 

"  4.  Then  did  these  four  send  to  the  Heads  of  Depart- 
ments, the  Postmasters  and  Sub-Postmasters,  the  Letter- 
Receivers,  the  Clerks-in-Charge,  the  Postal  Officers,  the 
Telegraphists,  the  Sorters,  the  Postmen  ;  yea  from  the  lowest 
even  unto  the  highest  sent  they  out. 

"  5.  And  the  word  of  Baines  and  of  them  that  were  with 
him  went  forth  that  the  Jubilee  should  be  kept  by  a  conver- 
sazione at  the  South  Kensington  Museum  on  Wednesday 
the  second  day  of  the  month  July  in  the  year  1890. 

"  6.  And  Victoria  the  Queen  became  a  patron  of  the 
Jubilee  Celebration ;  and  her  heart  was  stirred  within  her ; 
for  she  said.  For  three  whole  years  have  I  not  had  a 
Jubilee. 

"  7.  And  the  word  of  Baines  and  of  them  that  were  with 
him  went  forth  again  to  the  Heads  of  Departments,  the 
Postmasters  and  Sub-Postmasters,  the  Letter-Receivers,  the 
Clerks-in-Charge,  the  Postal  Officers  and  Telegraphists,  the 
Sorters  and  the  Postmen. 

"  8.  Saying  unto  them,  Lo  !  the  Queen  is  become  Patron 
of  the  Rowland  Hill  Memorial  and  Benevolent  Fund,  and  of 
the  conversazione  in  the  museum ;  and  we  the  Executive 
Committee  bid  you,  from  the  lowest  even  to  the  highest,  to 
join  with  us  at  the  tenth  hour  of  the  conversazione  in  a 
great  shouting  to  praise  the  name  of  the  Queen  our  patron. 

"  9.  Each  man  in  his  Post  Office  at  the  tenth  hour  shall 
shout  upon  her  name ;  and  a  record  thereof  shall  be  sent  to 
us  that  we  may  cause  its  memory  to  endure  for  ever, 

"10.  Then  a  great  fear  came  upon  the  Postmasters, 
the  Sub- Post  masters,  and  the  Letter-Receivers,  which  were 
bidden  to  make  the  record. 

"11.  For  they  said,  If  those  over  whom  we  are  set  in 
authority  shout  not  at  the  tenth  hour,  and  we  send  an  evil 
report,  we  shall  surely  perish. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      249 

"  12.  And  they  besought  their  men  to  shout  aloud  at  the 
tenth  hour,  lest  a  worse  thing  should  befall. 

"  13.  And  they  that  were  of  the  tribes  of  Nob  and  of 
Snob  rejoiced  with  an  exceeding  great  joy,  and  did 
shout  with  their  whole  might;  so  that  their  voices 
became  as  the  voices  of  them  that  sell  tidings  in  the  street 
at  nightfall. 

"14.  But  the  Telegraphists  and  the  Sorters  and  the 
Postmen,  and  them  that  were  of  the  tribes  of  Rag  and  of 
Tag,  hardened  their  hearts,  and  were  silent  at  the  tenth 
hour ;  for  they  said  among  themselves,  '  Shall  the  poor  man 
shout  in  his  poverty,  and  the  hungry  celebrate  his  lack  of 
bread?' 

"  15.  Now  Preece,  Lord  of  Lightning,  had  wrought  with 
a  cord  of  metal  that  they  who  were  at  the  conversazione 
might  hear  the  shouting  from  the  Post  Offices. 

"16.  And  the  tenth  hour  came;  and  lo !  there  was  no 
great  shout ;  and  the  tribes  of  Nob  and  Snob  were  as  the 
voice  of  men  calling  in  the  wilderness. 

"17.  Then  was  the  wrath  of  Baines  kindled  against 
the  tribes  of  Rag  and  Tag  for  that  they  had  not  shouted 
according  to  his  word ;  and  he  commanded  that  their  chief 
men  and  counsellors  should  be  cast  out  of  the  Queen's  Post 
Office. 

"18.  And  Raikes,  the  Postmaster-General,  told  the 
Queen  all  the  travail  of  Baines,  the  Inspector-General,  and 
of  them  that  were  with  him,  and  how  they  had  wrought  all 
for  the  greater  glory  of  the  Queen's  name. 

"  19.  And  the  Queen  hearkened  to  the  word  of  Raikes, 
and  lifted  up  Baines  to  be  a  Centurion  of  the  Bath ;  also 
she  placed  honours  upon  Cardin,  the  Receiver-General  and 
Accountant-General ;  upon  Preece,  Lord  of  Lightning  ;  upon 
Thompson,  the  Secretarial  Officer;  and  upon  Tombs,  the 
Controller,  so  that  they  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the  tribe  of  Snob, 
and  were  favourably  entreated  of  the  sons  of  Nob. 


250     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  20.  And  they  lived  long  in  the  land ;  and  all  men  said 
pleasant  things  unto  them. 

"21.  But  they  of  Tag  and  of  Rag  that  had  been  cast  out 
were  utterly  forgotten ;  so  that  they  were  fain  to  cry  aloud, 
saying,  '  How  long,  O  ye  honest  and  upright  in  heart,  shall 
Snobs  and  Nobs  be  rulers  over  Us,  seeing  that  they  are  but 
men  like  unto  us,  though  they  imagine  us  in  their  hearts  to 
be  otherwise  ? ' 

"  22.  And  the  answer  is  not  yet." 


XXVII. 

PARODIES   IN   VERSE. 

T  T  ERE  I  embark  on  the  shoreless  sea  of  metrical  parody, 
"*-  -*-  and  I  begin  my  cruise  by  reaffirming  that  in  this 
department  Rejected  Addresses,  though  distinctly  good  for 
their  time,  have  been  left  far  behind  by  modern  achieve- 
ments. The  sense  of  style  seems  to  have  grown  acuter, 
and  the  art  of  reproducing  it  has  been  brought  to  absolute 
perfection.  The  theory  of  development  is  instructively  illus- 
trated in  the  history  of  metrical  parody. 

Of  the  same  date  as  Rejected  Addresses.,  and  of  about 
equal  merit,  is  the  Poetry  of  the  Anti-Jacobin,  which  our 
grandfathers,  if  they  combined  literary  taste  with  Conserva- 
tive opinions,  were  never  tired  of  repeating.  The  extraor- 
dinary brilliancy  of  the  group  of  men  who  contributed  to 
it  guaranteed  the  general  character  of  the  book.  Its  merely 
satiric  verse  is  a  little  beside  my  present  mark ;  but  as  a 
parody  the  ballad  of  Duke  Stnithson  of  Northumberland, 
founded  on  Chevy  Chase,  ranks  high,  and  the  inscription  for 
the  cell  in  Newgate  where  Mrs.  Brownrigg,  who  murdered  her 
apprentices,  was  imprisoned,  is  even  better.  Southey,  in  his 
Radical  youth,  had  written  some  lines  on  the  cell  in  Chepstow 
Castle  where  Henry  Marten  the  Regicide  was  confined : — 

"  For  thirty  years  secluded  from  mankind 
Here  Marten  lingered  .  .  . 

Dost  thou  ask  his  crime  ? 
He  had  rebell'd  against  the  King,  and  sate 
In  judgment  on  him." 


252     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Here  is  Canning's  parody : — 

"  For  one  long  term,  or  e'er  her  trial  came, 
Here  Brownrigg  lingered  ... 

Dost  thou  ask  her  crime  ? 
She  whipped  two  female  'prentices  to  death, 
And  hid  them  in  a  coal-hole." 

The  time  of  Rejected  Addresses  and  the  Anti-Jacobin  was 
also  the  heyday  of  parliamentary  quotation,  and  old  parlia- 
mentary hands  used  to  cite  a  happy  instance  of  instantaneous 
parody  by  Daniel  O'Connell,  who,  having  noticed  that  the 
speaker  to  whom  he  was  replying  had  his  speech  written  out 
in  his  hat,  immediately  likened  him  to  Goldsmith's  village 
schoolmaster,  saying, — 

"  And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew 
That  one  small  hat  could  carry  all  he  knew." 

Another  instance  of  the  same  kind  was  O'Connell's  ex- 
temporized description  of  three  ultra-Protestant  members, 
Colonel  Verner,  Colonel  Vandeleur,  and  Colonel  Sibthorp, 
the  third  of  whom  was  conspicuous  in  a  closely  shaven  age 
for  his  profusion  of  facial  hair. 

"  Three  Colonels,  in  three  dififerent  counties  born, 
Armagh  and  Clare  and  Lincoln  did  adorn. 
The  first  in  direst  bigotry  surpassed  : 
The  next  in  impudence  :  in  both  the  last. 
The  force  of  Nature  could  no  further  go — 
To  beard  the  third,  she  shaved  the  former  two." 

A  similarly  happy  turn  to  an  old  quotation  was  given  by 

Baron  Parke,  afterwards  Lord  Wensleydale.     His  old  friend 

and  comrade  at  the  Bar,  Sir  David  Dundas,  had  just  been 

appointed  Solicitor-General,  and,  in  reply  to  Baron  Parke's 

invitation  to  dinner,  he  wrote  that  he  could  not  accept  it,  as 

he  had  been  already  invited  by  seven  peers  for  the  same 

evening.     He  promptly  received  the  following  couplets  : — 

"  Seven  thriving  cities  fight  for  Homer  dead 
Through  which  the  living  Homer  begged  his  bread." 

"  Seven  noble  Lords  ask  Davie  to  break  bread 
Who  wouldn't  care  a  d were  Davie  dead." 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      253 

The  Ingoldsby  Legends — long  since,  I  believCj  deposed 
from  their  position  in  pubUc  favour — were  published  in 
1840.  Their  principal  merits  are  a  vein  of  humour,  rollick- 
ing and  often  coarse,  but  genuine  and  infectious  ;  great  com- 
mand over  unusual  metres ;  and  an  unequalled  ingenuity  in 
making  double  and  treble  rhymes  :  for  example — 

"  The  poor  little  Page,  too,  himself  got  no  quarter,  but 
Was  served  the  same  way.  And  was  found  the  next  day, 
With  his  heels  in  the  air,  and  his  head  in  the  water-butt." 

There  is  a  general  flavour  of  parody  about  most  of  the 
ballads.  It  does  not  as  a  rule  amount  to  more  than  a  rather 
clumsy  mockery  of  mediaevalism,  but  the  verses  prefixed  to 
the  Lay  of  St.  Gengulphus  are  really  rather  like  a  fragment 
of  a  black-letter  ballad.  The  book  contains  only  one  abso- 
lute parody,  borrowed  from  Samuel  Lover's  Lyrics  of  Lreland, 
and  then  the  result  is  truly  offensive,  for  the  poem  chosen 
for  the  experiment  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
language — the  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore,  which  is  trans- 
muted into  a  stupid  story  of  vulgar  debauch.  Of  much  the 
same  date  as  the  Ingoldsby  legends  was  the  Old  Curiosity 
Shop,  and  no  one  who  has  a  really  scholarly  acquaintance 
with  Dickens  will  forget  the  delightful  scraps  of  Tom  Moore's 
amatory  ditties  with  which,  slightly  adapted  to  current  cir- 
cumstances, Dick  Swiveller  used  to  console  himself  when 
Destiny  seemed  too  strong  for  him.  And  it  will  be  re- 
membered that  Mr.  Slum  composed  some  very  telling  paro- 
dies of  the  same  popular  author  as  advertisements  for  Mrs. 
Jarley's  Waxworks ;  but  I  forbear  to  quote  here  what  is  so 
easily  accessible. 

By  way  of  tracing  the  development  of  the  Art  of  Parody, 
I  am  taking  my  samples  in  chronological  order.  In  1845 
the  Newdigate  Prize  for  an  English  poem  at  Oxford  was  won 
by  J.  W.  Burgon,  afterwards  Dean  of  Chichester.  The  sub- 
ject was  Petra.  The  successful  poem  was,  on  the  whole, 
not  much  better  and  not  much  worse  than  the  general  run 


254      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

of  such  compositions ;  but  it  contained  one  couplet  which 
Dean  Stanley  regarded  as  an  absolute  gem — a  volume  of 
description  condensed  into  two  lines  : — 

*'  Match  me  such  marvel,  save  in  Eastern  clime — 
A  rose-red  city,  half  as  old  as  time." 

The  couplet  was  universally  praised  and  quoted,  and,  as  a 
natural  consequence,  parodied.  There  resided  then  (and 
long  after)  at  Trinity  College,  Oxford,  an  extraordinarily  old 
don  called  Short.*  When  I  was  an  undergraduate  he  was 
still  tottering  about,  and  we  looked  at  him  with  interest  be- 
cause he  had  been  Newman's  tutor.  To  his  case  the  paro- 
dist of  the  period,  in  a  moment  of  inspiration,  adapted 
Burgon's  beautiful  couplet,  saying  or  singing  : — 

"  Match  me  such  marvel,  save  in  college  port. 
That  rose-red  liquor,  half  as  old  as  Short." 

The  Rev.  E.  T.  Turner,  till  recently  Registrar  of  the 
University,  has  been  known  to  say :  "  I  was  present  when 
that  egg  was  laid."  It  is  satisfactory  to  know  that  the  under- 
graduate who  laid  it — William  Basil  Tickell  Jones — attained 
deserved  eminence  in  after-life,  and  died  Bishop  of  St. 
David's. 

When  Burgon  was  writing  his  prize-poem  about  Petra, 
Lord  John  Manners  (afterwards  seventh  Duke  of  Rutland), 
in  his  capacity  as  Poet  Laureate  of  Young  England,  was 
writing  chivalrous  ditties  about  castles  and  banners,  and 
merry  peasants,  and  Holy  Church.  This  kind  of  mediaeval 
romanticism,  though  glorified  by  Lord  Beaconsfield  in  Con- 
ingsby,  seemed  purely  laughable  to  Thackeray,  and  he  made 
rather  bitter  fun  of  it  in  Lines  upon  my  Sister's  Portrait^  by 
the  Lord  Southdown. 

"  Dash  down,  dash  down  yon  mandolin,  beloved  sister  mine ! 
Those  blushing  lips  may  never  sing  the  glories  of  our  line  : 
Our  ancient  castles  echo  to  the  clumsy  feet  of  churls, 
The  spinning-jenny  houses  in  the  mansion  of  our  Earls. 


Rev.  Thomas  Short,  1780-1879. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      255 

Sing  not,  sing  not,  my  Angeline  !  in  days  so  base  and  vile, 

'Twere  sinful  to  be  happy,  'twere  sacrilege  to  smile. 

I'll  hie  me  to  my  lonely  hall,  and  by  its  cheerless  hob 

I'll  muse  on  other  days,  and  wish — and  wish  I  were — A  Snob." 

But,  though  the  spirit  of  this  mournful  song  is  the  spirit,  of 
England's  Trusty  the  verbal  imitation  is  not  close  enough  to 
deserve  the  title  of  Parody. 

The  Ballads  of  Bon  Gaultier,  published  anonymously  in 
1855,  had  a  success  which  wculd  only  have  been  possible  at 
a  time  when  really  artistic  parodies  were  unknown.  Bon 
Gaultier's  verses  are  not  as  a  rule  much  more  than  rough- 
and-ready  imitations ;  and,  like  so  much  of  the  humour  of 
their  day,  and  of  Scotch  humour  in  particular,  they  gene- 
rally depend  for  their  point  upon  drinking  and  drunkenness. 
Some  of  the  different  forms  of  the  Puff  Poetical  are  amusing, 
especially  the  advertisement  of  Doudney  Brothers'  Waist- 
coats, and  the  Puff  Direct  in  which  Parr's  Life-pills  are 
glorified  after  the  manner  of  a  German  ballad.  The  Laureate 
is  a  fair  hit  at  some  of  Tennyson's  earlier  mannerisms  : — 

"  Who  would  not  be 
The  Laureate  bold, 
With  his  butt  of  sherry 
To  keep  him  merry, 
And  nothing  to  do  iDut  pocket  his  gold  ?  " 

But  The  Lay  of  the  Lovelorn  is  a  clumsy  and  rather  vulgar 
skit  on  Locksley  Hall — a  poem  on  which  two  such  writers  as 
Sir  Theodore  Martin  and  Professor  Aytoun  would  have  done 
well  not  to  lay  their  sacrilegious  hands. 

We  have  now  passed  through  the  middle  stage  of  the  de- 
velopment which  I  am  trying  to  trace ;  we  are  leaving  clumsi- 
ness and  vulgarity  behind  us,  and  are  approaching  the  age  of 
perfection.  Sir  George  Trevelyan's  parodies  are  transitional. 
He  was  bom  in  1838,  three  times  won  the  prize  poem  at 
Harrow,  and  brought  out  his  Cambridge  squibs  in  and  soon 
after  the  year  1858.  Horace  at  the  University  of  Athens^ 
originally  written  for  acting  at  the  famous  "A.D.C,"  still 


256      COLLECTIONS  >AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

holds  its  own  as  one  of  the  wittiest  of  extravaganzas.  It 
contains  a  really  pretty  imitation  of  the  loth  Eclogue,  and  it 
is  studded  with  adaptations,  of  which  the  only  possible  fault 
is  that,  for  the  general  reader,  they  are  too  topical.  Here  is 
a  sample : — 

"  Donee  gratus  eram  tibi." 

Hot.  While  still  you  loved  your  Horace  best 
Of  all  my  peers  who  round  you  pressed 
(Though  not  in  expurgated  versions), 
More  proud  I  lived  than  King  of  Persians. 

Lyd.  And  while  as  yet  no  other  dame 

Had  kindled  in  your  breast  a  flame 
(Though  Niebuhr  her  existence  doubt), 
I  cut  historic  Ilia  out. 

Hor.  Dark  Chloe  now  my  homage  owns, 
Skilled  on  the  banjo  and  the  bones  ; 
For  whom  I  would  not  fear  to  die, 
If  death  would  pass  my  charmer  by. 

Lyd.  I  now  am  lodging  at  the  rus- 
In-urbe  of  young  Decius  Mus. 
Twice  over  would  I  gladly  die 
To  see  him  hit  in  either  eye. 

Hor.  But  should  the  old  love  come  again. 
And  Lydia  her  sway  retain, 
If  to  my  heart  once  more  I  take  her, 
And  bid  black  Chloe  wed  the  baker  ? 

Lyd,  Though  you  be  treacherous  as  audit 

When  at  the  fire  you've  lately  thawed  it, 
For  Decius  Mus  no  more  I'd  care 
Than  for  their  plate  the  Dons  of  Clare. 

Really  this  is  a  much  better  rendering  of  the  famous 
ode  than  nine-tenths  of  its  more  pompous  competitors ;  and 
the  allusions  to  the  perfidious  qualities  of  Trinity  Audit 
Ale  and  the  mercenary  conduct  of  the  Fellows  of  Clare 
need  no  explanation  for  Cambridge  readers,  and  little  for 
others.  But  it  may  be  fairly  objected  that  this  is  not, 
in  strictness,  a  parody.     That   is   true,  and   indeed   as  a 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      257 

parodist  Sir  George  Trevelyan  belongs  to  the  metrical 
miocene.  His  Horace,  when  serving  as  a  volunteer  in  the 
Republican  Army,  bursts  into  a  pretty  snatch  of  song  which 
has  a  flavour  of  Moore  : — 

"  The  minstrel  boy  from  the  wars  is  gone, 
All  out  of  breath  you'll  find  him  ; 
He  has  run  some  five  miles,  off  and  on, 
And  his  shield  has  flung  behind  him." 

And  the  Bedmaker's  Song  in  one  of  the  Cambridge  scenes 
is  sweetly  reminiscent  of  a  delightful  and  forgotten  bard  : — 

"  I  make  the  butter  fly,  all  in  an  hour  ; 

I  put  aside  the  preserves  and  cold  meats, 
Telling  my  master  the  cream  has  turned  sour, 
Hiding  the  pickles,  purloining  the  sweets." 

"  I  never  languish  for  husband  or  dower  ; 
I  never  sigh  to  see  'gyps '  at  my  feet ; 
I  make  the  butter  fly,  all  in  an  hour. 
Taking  it  home  for  my  Saturday  treat." 

This,  unless  I  greatly  err,  is  a  very  good  parody  of 
Thomas  Haynes  Bayly,  author  of  some  of  the  most  popular 
songs  of  a  sentimental  cast  which  were  chanted  in  our  youth 
and  before  it.  But  this  is  ground  on  which  I  must  not 
trench,  for  Mr.  Andrew  Lang  has  made  it  his  own.  The 
most  delightful  essay  in  one  of  his  books  of  Reprints  deals 
with  this  amazing  bard,  and  contains  some  parodies  so 
perfect  that  Mr.  Haynes  Bayly  would  have  rejoicingly  claimed 
them  as  his  own. 

Charles  Stuart  Calverley  is  by  common  consent  the  king 
of  metrical  parodists.  All  who  went  before  merely  adum- 
brated him  and  led  up  to  him ;  all  who  have  come  since 
are  descended  from  him  and  reflect  him.  Of  course  he 
was  infinitely  more  than  a  mere  imitator  of  rhymes  and 
rhythms.  He  was  a  true  poet;  he  was  one  of  the  most 
graceful  scholars  that  Cambridge  ever  produced ;  and  all 
his  exuberant  fun  was  based  on  a  broad  and  strong  founda- 


258     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

tion  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  English  literature.  Verses  and 
Translations,  by  C.  S.  C,  which  appeared  in  1862,  was  a 
young  man's  book,  although  its  author  had  already  estab- 
lished his  reputation  as  a  humorist  by  the  inimitable 
Examination  Paper  on  Pickwick  ;  and,  being  a  young  man's 
book,  it  was  a  book  of  unequal  merit.  The  translations 
I  leave  on  one  side,  as  lying  outside  my  present  purview, 
only  remarking  as  I  pass  that  if  there  is  a  finer  rendering 
than  that  of  Ajax — 645-692 — I  do  not  know  where  it  is 
to  be  found.  My  business  is  with  the  parodies.  It  was 
not  till  ten  years  later  that  in  Fly  Leaves  Calverley  asserted 
his  supremacy  in  the  art,  but  even  in  Verses  and  Translations 
he  gave  good  promise  of  what  was  to  be. 

Of  all  poems  in  the  world,  I  suppose  Horatius  has  been 
most  frequently  and  most  justly  parodied.  Every  Public 
School  magazine  contains  at  least  one  parody  of  it  every 
year.  In  my  Oxford  days  there  was  current  an  admirable 
version  of  it  (attributed  to  the  Rev.  W.  W.  Merry,  now 
Rector  of  Lincoln  College),  which  began, — 

"  Adolphus  Smalls,  of  Boniface, 
By  all  the  powers  he  swore 
That,  though  he  had  been  ploughed  three  times, 
He  would  be  ploughed  no  more," 

and  traced  with  curious  fidelity  the  successive  steps  in  the 
process  of  preparation  till  the  dreadful  day  of  examination 
arrived : — 

'*  They  said  he  made  strange  quantities, 

Which  none  might  make  but  he  ; 
And  that  strange  things  were  in  his  Prose 

Canine  to  a  degree  : 
But  they  called  his  Viva  Voce  fair, 

They  said  his  '  Books'  would  do ; 
And  native  cheek,  where  facts  were  weak. 

Brought  him  triumphant  through. 
And  in  each  Oxford  college 

In  the  dim  November  days, 
When  undergraduates  fresh  from  hall 

Are  gathering  round  the  blaze  ; 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      259 

When  the  '  crusted  port '  is  opened, 

And  the  Moderator's  lit, 
And  the  weed  glows  in  the  Freshman's  mouth, 

And  makes  him  turn  to  spit  ; 
With  laughing  and  with  chaffing 

The  story  they  renew. 
How  Smalls  of  Boniface  went  in. 

And  actually  got  through." 

So  much  for  the  Oxford  rendering  of  Macaulay's  famous 
lay.  "  C.  S,  C."  thus  adapted  it  to  Cambridge,  and  to  a 
different  aspect  of  undergraduate  Hfe  : — 

"On  pinnacled  St.  Mary's 

Lingers  the  setting  sun  ; 
Into  the  street  the  blackguards 

Are  skulking  one  by  one  ; 
Butcher  and  Boots  and  Bargeman 

Lay  pipe  and  pewter  down, 
And  with  wild  shout  come  tumbling  out 

To  join  the  Town  and  Gown. 

*  *  ♦  * 

'"Twere  long  to  tell  how  Boxer 

Was  countered  on  the  cheek. 
And  knocked  into  the  middle 

Of  the  ensuing  week  ; 
How  Barnacles  the  Freshman 

Was  asked  his  name  and  college, 
And  how  he  did  the  fatal  facts 

Reluctantly  acknowledge." 

Quite  different,  but  better  because   more  difficult,  is  this 
essay  in  Proverbial  Philosophy : — 

"  I  heard  the  wild  notes  of  the  lark  floating  for  over  the  blue  sky. 
And  my  foolish  heart  went  after  him,  and,  lo  !  I  blessed  him  as  he 

rose. 
Foolish  ;  for  far  better  is  the  trained  boudoir  bullfinch, 
Which  pipeth  the  semblance  of  a  tune  and  mechanically  draweth  up 

water. 
For  verily,  O  my  daughter,  the  world  is  a  masquerade. 
And  God   made  thee   one  thing   that   thou   mightest  make   thyself 

another. 
A  maiden's  heart  is  as  champagne,    ever   aspiring   and   struggling 

upwards, 
And  it  needed  that  its  motions  be  checked  by  the  silvered  cork  of 

Propriety. 


26o      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

He  that  can  afford  the  price,  his  be  the  precious  treasure, 
Let  him  drink  deeply  of  its  sweetness  nor  grumble  if  it  tasteth  of  the 
cork." 

Enoch  Arden  was  published  in  1864,  and  was  not  enthusi- 
astically received  by  true  lovers  of  Tennyson,  though  people 
who  had  never  read  him  before  thought  it  wonderfully  fine. 
A  kinsman  of  mine  always  contended  that  the  story  ended 
wrongly,  and  that  the  really  human,  and  therefore  dramatic, 
conclusion  would  have  been  as  follows  : — 

"  For  Philip's  dwelling  fronted  on  the  street, 
And  Enoch,  coming,  saw  the  house  a  blaze 
Of  light,  and  Annie  drinking  from  a  mug — 
A  funny  mug,  all  blue  with  strange  device 
Of  birds  and  waters  and  a  little  man. 
And  Philip  held  a  bottle  ;  and  a  smell 
Of  strong  tobacco,  with  a  fainter  smell — 
But  still  a  smell,  and  quite  distinct — of  gin 
Was  there.     He  raised  the  latch,  and  stealing  by  , 

The  cupboard,  where  a  row  of  teacups  stood. 
Hard  by  the  genial  hearth,  he  paused  behind 
The  luckless  pair,  then  drawing  back  his  foot — 
His  manly  foot,  all  clad  in  sailors'  hose — 
He  swung  it  forth  with  such  a  grievous  kick 
That  Philip  ina  moment  was  propelled 
Against  his  wife,  though  not  his  wife  ;  and  she 
Fell  forwards,  smashing  saucers,  cups,  and  jug 
Fell  in  a  heap.     All  shapeless  on  the  floor 
Philip  and  Annie  and  the  crockery  lay. 
Then  Enoch's  voice  accompanied  his  foot, 
For  both  were  raised,  with  horrid  oath  and  kick, 
Till  constables  came  in  with  Miriam  Lane 
And  bare  them  all  to  prison,  railing  loud. 
Then  Philip  was  discharged  and  ran  away, 
And  Enoch  paid  a  fine  for  the  assault ; 
And  Annie  went  to  Philip,  telling  him 
That  she  would  see  old  Enoch  further  first 
Before  she  would  acknowledge  him  to  be 
Himself,  if  Philip  only  would  return. 
But  Philip  said  that  he  would  rather  not. 
Then  Annie  plucked  such  handfuls  of  his  hair 
Out  of  his  head  that  he  was  nearly  bald. 
But  Enoch  laughed,  and  said,  '  Well  done,  my  girl.  ' 
And  so  the  two  shook  hands  and  made  it  up." 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      261 

In  1869  Lewis  Carroll  published  a  little  book  of  rhymes 
called  Phantasmagoria.  It  related  chiefly  to  Oxford.  Partly 
because  it  was  anonymous,  partly  because  it  was  mainly 
topical,  the  book  had  no  success.  But  it  contained  two  or 
three  parodies  which  deserve  to  rank  with  the  best  in  the 
language.     One  is  an  imitation  of  a  ballad  in  black-letter 

called 

"YE   CARPETTE   KNYGHTE. 
*'  I  have  a  horse — a  ryghte  goode  horse — 
Ne  doe  I  envye  those 
Who  scoure  y°  playne  yn  headye  course 

Tyll  soddayne  on  theyre  nose 
They  lyghte  wyth  unexpected  force — 
Yt  ys  a  Horse  of  Clothes." 

Then,  again,  there  is  excellent  metaphysical  fooling  in  TTie 
Three  Voices.  But  far  the  best  parody  in  the  book — and 
the  most  richly  deserved  by  the  absurdity  of  its  original — 
is  Hiawatha^ s  Photographing.  It  has  the  double  merit  of 
absolute  similarity  in  cadence  and  life-like  realism.  Un- 
luckily the  limits  of  space  forbid  complete  citation : — 

"  From  his  shoulder  Hiawatha 
Took  the  camera  of  rosewood, 
Made  of  sliding,  folding  rosewood  ; 
Neatly  put  it  all  together. 
In  its  case  it  lay  compactly, 
Folded  into  nearly  nothing. 
But  he  opened  out  the  hinges, 
Pushed  and  pulled  the  joints  and  hinges, 
Till  it  looked  all  squares  and  oblongs. 
Like  a  complicated  figure 
In  the  Second  Book  of  Euclid. 
This  he  perched  upon  a  tripod. 
And  the  family  in  order 
Sate  before  him  for  their  portraits. 

«  41  «  « 

Each  in  turn,  as  he  was  taken. 
Volunteered  his  own  suggestions, 
His  ingenious  suggestions. 
First  the  Governor,  the  Father  : 
He  suggested  velvet  curtains. 
And  the  corner  of  a  table. 
Of  a  rosewood  dining-table. 


262     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

He  would  hold  a  scroll  of  something, 
Hold  it  firmly  in  his  left  hand  ; 
He  would  keep  his  right  hand  buried 
(Like  Napoleon)  in  his  waistcoat ; 
He  would  contemplate  the  distance 
With  a  look  of  pensive  meaning, 
As  of  ducks  that  die  in  tempests. 
Grand,  heroic  was  the  notion, 
Yet  the  picture  failed  entirely, 
Failed,  because  he  moved  a  little ; 
Moved,  because  he  couldn't  help  it." 

Who  does  not  know  that  Father  in  the  flesh?  and  who 
has  not  seen  him — velvet  curtains,  dining-table,  scroll,  and 
all — on  the  most  conspicuous  wall  of  the  Royal  Academy  ? 
The  Father  being  disposed  of, 

"  Next  his  belter  half  took  courage. 
She  would,have  her  picture  taken." 

But  her  restlessness  and  questionings  proved  fatal  to  the 
result. 

"  Ne%ct  the  son,  the  Stunning-Cantab : 

He  suggested  curves  of  beauty, 

Curves  pervading  all  his  figure, 

Which  the  eye  might  follow  onward 

Till  they  centered  in  the  breastpin, 

Centered  in  the  golden  breastpin. 

He  had  learnt  it  all  from  Ruskin, 

Author  of  the  Stones  of  Venice" 

But,  in  spite  of  such  culture,  the  portrait  was  a  failure, 
and  the  elder  sister  fared  no  better.  Then  the  younger 
brother  followed,  and  his  portrait  was  so  awful  that — 

"  In  comparison  the  others 

Seemed  to  one's  bewildered  fancy 
To  have  partially  succeeded." 

Undaunted  by  these  repeated  failures,  Hiawatha,  by  a  great 
final  effort,  "  tumbled  all  the  tribe  together  "  in  the  manner 
of  a  family  group,  and — 

**  Did  at  last  obtain  a  picture 
Where  the  faces  all  succeeded — 
Each  came  out  a  perfect  likeness. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      263 

Then  they  joined  and  all  abused  it, 
Unrestrainedly  abused  it, 
As  the  worst  and  ugliest  picture 
They  could  possibly  have  dreamed  of; 
'  Giving  one  such  strange  expressions — 
Sullen,  stupid,  pert  expressions. 
Really  any  one  would  take  us 
(Any  one  that  didn't  know  us) 
For  the  most  unpleasant  people.' 
Hiawatha  seemed  to  think  so, 
Seemed  to  think  it  not  unlikely." 

How  true  to  life  is  this  final  touch  of  indignation  at  the 
unflattering  truth !  But  time  and  space  forbid  me  further 
to  pursue  the  photographic  song  of  Hiawatha. 

Phantasmagoria  filled  an  aching  void  during  the  ten  years 
which  elapsed  between  the  appearance  of  Verses  and  Trans- 
lations and  that  of  Fly  Leaves.  The  latter  book  is  small, 
only  124  pages  in  all,  including  the  Pickwick  Examination 
Paper,  but  what  marvels  of  mirth  and  poetry  and  satire  it 
contains !  How  secure  its  place  in  the  affections  of  all  who 
love  the  gentle  art  of  parody !  My  rule  is  not  to  quote 
extensively  from  books  which  are  widely  known ;  but  I  must 
give  myself  the  pleasure  of  repeating  just  six  lines  which 
even  appreciative  critics  generally  overlook.  They  relate  to 
the  conversation  of  the  travelling  tinker. 

"  Thus  on  he  prattled  like  a  babbling  brook. 
Then  I :  '  The  sun  hath  slipt  behind  the  hill, 
And  my  Aunt  Vivian  dines  at  half-past  six.' 
So  in  all  love  we  parted  ;  I  to  the  Hall, 
He  to  the  village.     It  was  noised  next  noon 
That  chickens  had  been  missed  at  Syllabub  Farm." 

Will  any  one  stake  his  literary  reputation  on  the  assertion 
that  these  lines  are  not  really  Tennyson's  ? 


XXVIII. 

PARODIES  IN  TERSE— continued. 

TIT"  HEN  I  embarked  upon  the  subject  of  metrical  parody 
'  *  I  said  that  it  was  a  shoreless  sea.  For  my  own  part,  I 
enjoy  sailing  over  these  rippling  waters,  and  cannot  be 
induced  to  hurry.  Let  us  put  in  for  a  moment  at  Belfast. 
There  in  1874  the  British  Association  held  its  annual  meet- 
ing, and  Professor  Tyndall  delivered  an  inaugural  address 
in  which  he  revived  and  glorified  the  Atomic  Theory  of  the 
Universe.  His  glowing  peroration  ran  as  follows  :  "  Here 
I  must  quit  a  theme  too  great  for  me  to  handle,  but  which 
will  be  handled  by  the  loftiest  minds  ages  after  you  and  I, 
like  streaks  of  morning  cloud,  shall  have  melted  into  the 
infinite  azure  of  the  past."  Shortly  afterwards  BlacHvood^s 
Magazine^  always  famous  for  its  humorous  and  satiric  verse, 
published  a  rhymed  abstract  of  Tyndall's  address,  of  which 
I  quote  (from  memory)  the  concluding  lines  : — 

*'  Let  us  greatly  honour  the  Atom,  so  lively,  so  wise,  and  so  small  ; 
The  Atomists,  too,  let  us  honour — Epicurus,  Lucretius,  and  all. 
Let  us  damn  with  faint  praise  Bishop  Butler,  in  whom  many  atoms 

combined 
To  form  that  remarkable  structure  which  it  pleased  him  to  call  his  mind. 
Next  praise  we  the  noble  body  to  which,  for  the  time,  we  belong 
(Ere  yet  the  swift  course  of  the  Atom   hath   hurried   us  breathless 

along) — 
The  British  Association — like  Leviathan  worshipped  by  Hobbes, 
The  incarnation  of  wisdom  built  up  of  our  witless  nobs  ; 
Which  will  carry  on  endless  discussion  till  I,  and  probably  you. 
Have  melted  in  infinite  azure — and,  in  short,  till  all  is  blue." 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      265 

Surely  this  translation  of  the  Professor's  misplaced  dithy- 
rambics  into  the  homeliest  of  colloquialisms  is  both  good 
parody  and  just  criticism. 

In  1876  there  appeared  a  clever  little  book  (attributed  to 
Sir  Frederick  Pollock)  which  was  styled  Leading  Cases  done 
into  English,  by  an  Apprentice  of  LincoMs  Inn.  It  appealed 
only  to  a  limited  public,  for  it  is  actually  a  collection  of 
sixteen  important  law-cases  set  forth,  with  explanatory  notes, 
in  excellent  verse  imitated  from  poets  great  and  small. 
Chaucer,  Browning,  Tennyson,  Swinburne,  Clough,  Rossetti, 
and  James  Rhoades  supply  the  models,  and  I  have  been 
credibly  informed  that  the  law  is  as  good  as  the  versification. 
Mr.  Swinburne  was  in  those  days  the  favourite  butt  of  young 
parodists,  and  the  gem  of  the  book  is  the  dedication  to 
"J.  S."  or  "John  Stiles,"  a  mythical  person,  nearly  related 
to  John  Doe  and  Richard  Roe,  with  whom  all  budding 
jurists  had  in  old  days  to  make  acquaintance.  The  dis- 
appearance of  the  venerated  initials  from  modern  law-books 
inspired  the  following  : — 

"When  waters  are  rent  with  commotion 

Of  storms,  or  with  sunlight  made  whole, 
The  river  still  pours  to  the  ocean 

The  stream  of  its  effluent  soul ; 
You,  too,  from  all  lips  of  all  living, 

Of  worship  disthroned  and  discrowned, 
Shall  know  by  these  gifts  of  my  giving 

That  faith  is  yet  found  ; 

"  By  the  sight  of  my  song-flight  of  cases 
That  bears,  on  wings  woven  of  rhyme, 
Names  set  for  a  sign  in  high  places 
By  sentence  of  men  of  old  time  ; 
From  all  counties  they  meet  and  they  mingle, 

Dead  suitors  whom  Westminster  saw  ; 
They  are  many,  but  your  name  is  single, 
Pure  flower  of  pure  law. 

*  *  *  * 

"  So  I  pour  you  this  drink  of  my  verses, 
Of  learning  made  lovely  with  lays, 
Song  bitter  and  sweet  that  rehearses 
The  deeds  of  your  eminent  days  ; 
10 


2d6      collections  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Yea,  in  these  evil  days  from  their  reading 

Some  profit  a  student  shall  draw, 
Though  some  points  are  of  obsolete  pleading, 

And  some  are  not  law. 

"  Though  the  Courts,  that  were  manifold,  dwindle 

To  divers  Divisions  of  One, 
And  no  fire  from  your  face  may  rekindle 

The  light  of  old  learning  undone. 
We  have  suitors  and  briefs  for  our  payment, 

While,  so  long  as  a  Court  shall  hold  pleas, 
We  talk  moonshine  with  wigs  for  our  raiment. 

Not  sinking  the  fees." 

Some  five-and-twenty  years  ago  there  appeared  the  first 
number  of  a  magazine  called  The  Dark  Blue.  It  was 
published  in  London,  but  was  understood  to  represent  in 
some  occult  way  the  thought  and  life  of  Young  Oxford,  and 
its  contributors  were  mainly  Oxford  men.  The  first  number 
contained  an  amazing  ditty  called  "  The  Sun  of  my  Songs." 
It  was  dark,  and  mystic,  and  transcendental,  and  unin- 
telligible. It  dealt  extensively  in  strange  words  and  cryptic 
phrases.     One  verse  I  must  transcribe : — 

"  Yet  all  your  song 

Is — '  Ding  dong. 

Summer  is  dead, 

Spring  is  dead — 
O  my  heart,  and  O  my  head 
Go  a-singing  a  silly  song 

All  wrong, 

For  all  is  dead. 
Ding  dong, 

And  I  am  dead  ! 
Dong  I'" 

I  quote  thus  fully  because  Cambridge,  never  backward 
in  poking  fun  at  her  more  romantic  sister,  shortly  afterwards 
produced  an  excellent  little  magazine  named  sarcastically 
The  Light  Green,  and  devoted  to  the  ridicule  of  its  cerulean 
rival.  The  poem  from  which  I  have  just  quoted  was  thus 
burlesqued,  if,  indeed,  burlesque  of  such  a  composition  were 
possible  : — 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.   267 

"  Ding  dong,  ding  dong, 
There  goes  the  gong  ; 
Dick,  come  along, 

It  is  time  for  dinner 
Wash  your  face. 
Take  your  place. 
Where's  your  grace, 

You  little  sinner  ? 

"  Baby  cry, 
Wipe  his  eye. 
Baby  good, 
Give  him  food. 
Baby  sleepy, 
Go  to  bed. 
Baby  naughty, 
Smack  his  head  ! " 

The  Light  Green,  which  had  only  an  ephemeral  life,  was, 
I  have  always  heard,  entirely,  or  almost  entirely,  the  work 
of  one  undergraduate,  who  died  young — Arthur  Clement 
Hilton,  of  St.  John's.*  He  certainly  had  the  knack  of 
catching  and  reproducing  style.  In  the  "  May  Exam.,"  a 
really  good  imitation  of  the  "  May  Queen,"  the  departing 
undergraduate  thus  addresses  his  "  gyp  "  : — 

*'  When  the  men  come  up  again,  Filcher,  and  the  Term  is  at  its  height, 
You'll  never  see  me  more  in  these  long  gay  rooms  at  night ; 
When  the  "  old  dry  wines  "  are  circling,  and  the  claret-cup  flows  cool, 
And  the  loo  is  fast  and  furious,  with  a  fiver  in  the  pool." 

In  1872  "Lewis  Carroll"  brought  out  Through  the 
Looking-glass,  and  every  one  who  has  ever  read  that  pretty 
work  of  poetic  fancy  will  remember  the  ballad  of  the 
Walrus  and  the  Carpenter.  It  was  parodied  in  The  Light 
Green  under  the  title  of  "  The  Vulture  and  the  Husband- 
man." This  poem  described  the  agonies  of  a  viva-voce 
examination,  and  it  derived  its  title  from  two  facts  of  evil 
omen — that  the  Vulture  plucks  its  victim,  and  that  the 
Husbandman  makes  his  living  by  ploughing : — 

*  Born  i8si  :  ordained  1874;  died  1877. 


268     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Two  undergraduates  came  up. 
And  slowly  took  a  seat, 
They  knit  their  brows,  and  bit  their  thumbs, 

As  if  they  found  them  sweet ; 
And  this  was  odd,  because,  you  know, 
Thumbs  are  not  good  to  eat. 

"  'The  time  has  come,'  the  Vulture  said, 
'  To  talk  of  many  things — 
Of  Accidence  and  Adjectives, 

And  names  of  Jewish  Kings  ; 
How  many  notes  a  Sackbut  has, 
And  whether  Shawms  have  strings.' 

"  '  Please  sir,'  the  Undergraduates  said, 
Turning  a  little  blue, 
'  We  did  not  know  that  was  the  sort 

Of  thing  we  had  to  do.' 
'  We  thank  you  much,'  the  Vulture  said  ; 
'  Send  up  another  two.'" 

The  base  expedients  to  which  an  examination  reduces  its 
victims  are  hit  off  with  much  dexterity  in  "  The  Heathen 
Pass-ee,"  a  parody  of  an  American  poem  which  is  too 
familiar  to  justify  quotation  : — 

"  Tom  Crib  was  his  name, 

And  I  shall  not  deny, 
In  regard  to  the  same, 

What  that  name  might  imply ; 
But  his  face  it  was  trustful  and  childlike, 

And  he  had  the  most  innocent  eye. 

*  iii  *  « 

"  On  the  cuffs  of  his  shirt 

He  had  managed  to  get 
What  we  hoped  had  been  dirt, 

But  which  proved,  I  regret, 
To  be  notes  on  the  Rise  of  the  Drama 

A  question  invariably  set. 

"  In  the  crown  of  his  cap 

Were  the  Furies  and  Fates, 
And  a  delicate  map 

Of  the  Dorian  States  ; 
And  we  found  in  his  palms,  which  were  hollow, 

What  are  frequent  in  palms — that  is,  dates." 

Deservedly  dear  to   the  heart  of  English  youth  are  the 


,  COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      269 

Nonsense  Rhymes  of  Edward  Lear.  It  will  be  recollected 
that  the  form  of  the  verse  as  originally  constructed  repro- 
duced the  final  word  of  the  first  line  at  the  end  of  the  fifth, 

thus  : — 

"  There  was  an  old  person  of  Basing 
Whose  presence  of  mind  was  amazing  ; 
He  purchased  a  steed 
Which  he  rode  at  full  speed, 
And  escaped  from  the  people  of  Basing." 

But  in  the  process  of  development  it  became  usual  to  find 
a  hew  word  for  the  end  of  the  fifth  line,  thus  at  once  securing 
a  threefold  rhyme  and  introducing  the  element  of  unexpected- 
ness, instead  of  inevitableness,  into  the  conclusion.  Thus 
The  Light  Green  sang  of  the  Colleges  in  which  it  circu- 
lated— 

"There  was  an  old  Fellow  of  Trinity, 

A  Doctor  well  versed  in  divinity  ; 

But  he  took  to  free-thinking, 

And  then  to  deep  drinking, 

And  so  had  to  leave  the  vicinity." 

And— 

"There  was  a  young  genius  of  Queen's 
Who  was  fond  of  explosive  machines  ; 
He  blew  open  a  door, 
But  he'll  do  so  no  more — 
For  it  chanced  that  that  door  was  the  Dean's." 
And— 

"There  was  a  young  gourmand  of  John's 
Who'd  a  notion  of  dining  off  swans  ; 
To  the  "  Backs  "  he  took  big  nets 
To  capture  the  cygnets. 
But  was  told  they  were  kept  for  the  Dons." 

So  far  The  Light  Green. 

Not  at  all  dissimilar  in  feeling  to  these  ebullitions  of 
youthful  fancy  were  the  parodies  of  nursery  rhymes  which  the 
lamented  Corney  Grain  invented  for  one  of  his  most  popular 
entertainments,  and  used  to  accompany  on  the  piano  in  his 
own  inimitable  style.  I  well  remember  the  opening  verse  of 
one,  in  which  an  incident  in  the  social  career  of  a  Liberal 
millionaire  was  understood  to  be  immortalized : — 


270      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  Old  Mr.  Parvenu  gave  a  great  ball, 
And  of  all  his  smart  guests  he  knew  no  one  at  all  ; 
Old  Mr.  Parvenu  went  up  to  bed, 
And  his  guests  said  good-night  lo  the  butler  instead." 

.  Twenty  years  ago  we  were  in  the  crisis  of  the  great  Jingo 
fever,  and  Lord  Beaconsfield's  antics  in  the  East  were 
frightening  all  sober  citizens  out  of  their  senses.  It  was 
at  that  period  that  the  music-halls  rang  with  the  "Great 
MacDermott's  "  Tyrtaean  strain — 

*'  We  don't  want  to  fight ;  but,  by  Jingo,  if  we  do,  , 

We've  got  the  ships,  we've  got  the  men,  we've  got  the  money  too ; " 

and  the  word  "Jingo"  took  its  place  in  the  language  as 
the  recognized  symbol  of  a  warlike  policy.  At  Easter  1878 
it  was  announced  that  the  Government  were  bringing  black 
troops  from  India  to  Malta,  to  aid  our  English  forces  in 
whatever  enterprises  lay  before  them.  The  refrain  of  the 
music-hall  was  instantly  adapted  with  great  effect,  even  the 
grave  Spectator  giving  currency  to  the  parody — 

"  We  don't  want  to  fight ;  but,  by  Jingo,  if  we  do. 
We  won't  go  to  the  front  ourselves,  but  we'll  send  the  mild  Hindoo." 

Two  years  passed.  Lord  Beaconsfield  was  deposed.  The 
tide  of  popular  feeling  turned  in  favour  of  Liberalism,  and 
"Jingo  "  became  a  term  of  reproach.  Mr.  Tennyson,  as  he 
then  was,  endeavoured  to  revive  the  patriotic  spirit  of  his 
countrymen  by  publishing  Hands  all  Round — a  poem  which 
had  the  supreme  honour  of  being  quoted  in  the  House  of 
Commons  by  Sir  Ellis  Ashmead-Bartlett.  Forthwith  an 
irreverent  parodist — some  say  Mr.  Andrew  Lang — appeared 
with  the  following  counterblast : — 

DRINKS    ALL   ROUND. 

(Being  an  attempt  to  arrange  Mr.  Tennyson's  noble  words  for 
truly  patriotic,  Protectionist,  and  Anti-aboriginal  circles.) 

"  A  health  to  Jingo  first,  and  then 

A  health  to  shell,  a  health  to  shot ! 
The  man  who  hates  not  other  men 
I  deem  no  perfect  patriot." 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      271 

To  all  who  hold  all  England  mad 

We  drink  ;  to  all  who'd  tax  her  food ! 
We  pledge  the  man  who  hates  the  Rad, 

We  drink  to  Bartle  Frere  and  Froude  ! 

Drinks  all  round  ! 
Here's  to  Jingo,  king  and  crowned  1 

To  the  great  cause  of  Jingo  drink,  my  boys, 
And  the  great  name  of  Jingo,  round  and  round. 


To  all  the  companies  that  long 

To  rob,  as  folk  robbed  years  ago ; 
To  all  that  wield  the  double  thong. 

From  Queensland  round  to  Borneo  ! 
To  all  that,  under  Indian  skies, 

Call  Aryan  man  a  "  blasted  nigger ;  " 
To  all  rapacious  enterprise  ; 

To  rigour  everywhere,  and  vigour  ! 

Drinks  all  round  1 
Here's  to  Jingo,  king  and  crowned  ! 

To  the  great  name  of  Jingo  drink,  my  boys. 
And  every  filibuster,  round  and  round  ! 


To  all  our  Statesmen,  while  they  see 

An  outlet  new  for  British  trade, 
Where  British  fabrics  still  may  be 

With  British  size  all  overweighed  ; 
Wherever  gin  and  guns  are  sold 

We've  scooped  the  artless  nigger  in  ; 
Where  men  give  ivory  and  gold, 

We  give  them  measles,  tracts,  and  gin. 

Drinks  all  round  ! 
Here's  to  Jingo,  king  and  crowned  ! 

To  the  great  name  of  Jingo  drink,  my  boys, 
And  to  Adulteration  round  and  round. 


The  Jingo  fever  having  abated,  another  malady  appeared 
in  the  body  politic.  Trouble  broke  out  in  Ireland,  and  in 
January  1881  Parliament  was  summoned  to  pass  Mr.  Forster's 
Coercion  Act.  My  diary  for  that  date  supplies  me  with  the 
following  excellent  imitation  of  a  veteran  Poet  of  Freedom 
rushing  with  ardent  sympathy  into  the  Irish  struggle. 


272     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

A  L'IRLANDE. 

Par  Victor  Hugo. 

O  Irlande,  grand  pays  du  shillelagh  et  du  bog, 

Ou  les  patriots  vont  toujours  ce  qu'on  appelle  le  whole  hog. 

Aujourd'hui  je  prends  la  plume,  moi  qui  suis  vieux, 

Pour  dire  au  grand  patriot  Parnell,  "  How  d'ye  do?" 

Erin,  aux  armes  !  le  whisky  vous  donne  la  force 

De  se  battre  I'un  pour  I'autre  comme  les  fameux  Frferes  Corses. 

Votre  Land  League  et  vos  Home  Rulers  sont  des  lib^rateurs. 

Payez  la  valuation  de  Griffith  et  n'ayez  pas  peur. 

De  la  tenure  la  fixit^  c'est  I'astre  de  vos  reves, 
Que  Rory  des  CoUines  vit  et  que  les  landgrabbers  crevent 
Moi,  je  suis  vieux,  mais  dans  1 'ombre  je  vois  clair, 
Bient6t  serez-vous  mattres  de  vos  bonnes  pommes  de  terre. 
C'est  le  brave  Biggar,  le  T.  P.  O'Connor  et  les  autres 
Qui  sont  vos  sauveurs,  comme  Gambetta  etait  le  n6tre  ; 
Suivez-les,  et  la  victoire  sera  toujours  k  vous, 
Si  k  Milbank  ce  cher  Forster  ne  vous  envoie  pas.     Hooroo  ! 

By  the  time  that  these  Hnes  were  written  the  late 
Mr.  J.  K,  Stephen — affectionately  known  by  his  friends  as 
"  Jem  Stephen " — was  beginning  to  be  recognized  as  an 
extraordinarily  good  writer  of  humorous  verse.  His  per- 
formances in  this  line  were  not  collected  till  ten  years  later 
(^Lapsus  Calami,  1891),  and  his  brilliant  career  was  cut  short, 
by  the  results  of  an  accident,  in  1892.  I  reproduce  the 
following  sonnet,  not  only  because  I  think  it  an  excellent 
criticism  aptly  expressed,  but  because  I  desire  to  pay  my 
tribute  of  admiration  to  one  of  whom  all  men  spoke  golden 

words : — 

"Two  voices  are  there  :  one  is  of  the  deep — 
It  learns  the  storm-cloud's  thunderous  melody, 
Now  roars,  now  murmurs  with  the  changing  sea. 
Now  bird -like  pipes,  now  closes  soft  in  sleep  ; 
And  one  is  of  an  old,  half-witted  sheep 
Which  bleats  articulate  monotony. 
And  indicates  that  two  and  one  are  three, 
That  grass  is  green,  lakes  damp,  and  mountains  steep  ; 
And,  Wordsworth,  both  are  thine." 

I  hope  that  there  are  few  among  my  readers  who  have  not 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      273 

in  their  time  known  and  loved  the  dear  old  ditty  which  tells 
us  how 

"  There  was  a'youth,  and  a  well-beloved  youth, 
And  he  was  a  squire's  son, 
And  he  loved  the  Bailiff's  daughter  dear 
Who  dwelt  at  Islington." 

Well,  to  all  who  have  followed  that  touching  story  of  love 
and  grief  I  commend  the  following  version  of  it.  French, 
after  all,  is  the  true  language  of  sentiment : — 

"  II  y  avait  un  gar9on, 
Fort  aimable  et  fort  bon, 

Qui  etait  le  fils  du  Lord  Mayor  ; 
Et  il  aimait  la  fille 
D'un  sergent  de  ville 

Qui  demeurait  a  Leycesster  Sqvare. 

"  Mais  elle  etait  un  peu  prude, 
Et  n'avait  pas  Ihabitude 

De  coqueter,  comme  les  autres  demoiselles ; 
Jusqu'a  ce  que  le  Lord  Mayor 
(Homme  brutal,  comme  tous  les  peres) 
L'eloigna  de  sa  tourterelle. 

"  Apr^s  quelques  ans  d'absence, 
Au  rencontre  elle  s'elance  ; 

Elle  se  fait  une  toilette  de  tr^s  bon  goflt — 
Des  pantoufles  sur  les  pieds, 
Des  lunettes  sur  le  nez, 

Et  un  collier  sur  le  cou — c'etait  tout. 

"  Mais  bientot  elle  s'assit 
Dans  la  rue  Piccadilli, 

Car  il  faisait  extremement  chaud  ; 
Et  1^  elle  vit  s'avancer 
L'unique  objet  de  ses  pensees, 

Sur  le  plus  magnifique  de  chevaux  ! 

"  *  Je  suis  pauvre  et  sans  ressource  1 
Prete,  prete-moi  ta  bourse, 

Ou  ta  montre,  pour  me  montrer  confiance.' 
'Jeune  femme,  je  ne  vous  connais, 
Ainsi  il  faut  me  donner 

Une  adresse  et  quelques  references.' 

"  '  Mon  adresse — c'est  Leycesster  Sqvare, 
Et  pour  reference  j'espere 


274      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Que  la  statue  de  Shakespeare  vous  suffira.' 
'Ah  !  connais-tu  ma  mie, 
La  fille  du  sergent?'     'Si; 

Mais  elle  est  morte  comme  un  rat ! ' 

*  'Si  defunte  est  ma  belle, 

Prenez,  s'il  vous  plait,  ma  selle, 

Et  ma  bride,  et  mon  cheval  incomparable  ; 
Car  il  ne  faut  rien  dire, 
Mais  vite,  vite  m'ensevelir 

Dans  un  desert  sec  et  desagreable.' 

"  *  Ah  !  mon  brave,  arrete-toi. 
Je  suis  ton  unique  choix  ; 

La  fille  du  sergent  sans  peur  ! 
Pour  mon  trousseau,  c'est  modeste, 
Vous  le  voyez  !     Pour  le  reste, 
Je  t'^pouse  dans  une  demi-heure  !' 

"  Mais  le  jeune  homme  ^pouvant^ 
Sur  non  cheval  vite  remontait, 

La  liberty  lui  ^tait  trop  ch^re  ! 
Et  la  pauvre  fille  d^gofit^e 
N'avait  qu'^  reprendre  sa  route,  et 

Son  adressse  est  encore  Leycesster  Sqvare." 
» 
The  chiefs  of  the  Permanent  Civil  Service  are  not  usually, 
as  Swift  said,  "  blasted  with  poetic  fire,"  but  this  delightful 
ditty  is  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Henry  Graham,  the  Clerk  of  the 
Parliaments. 

Of  the  metrical  parodists  of  the  present  hour  two  are 
extremely  good.  Mr.  Owen  Seaman  is,  beyond  and  before 
all  his  rivals,  "  up  to  date,"  and  pokes  his  lyrical  fun  at  such 
songsters  as  Mr.  Alfred  Austin,  Mr.  William  Watson,  Mr. 
Rudyard  Kipling,  and  Mr.  Richard  Le  Gallienne.  But 
"  Q."  is  content  to  try  his  hand  on  poets  of  more  ancient 
standing ;  and  he  is  not  only  of  the  school  but  of  the  lineage 
of  "  C.  S.  C."  I  have  said  before  that  I  forbear,  as  a  rule,  to 
quote  from  books  as  easily  accessible  as  Green  Bays ;  but 
is  there  a  branch  of  the  famous  "Omar  Khayydm  Club"  in 
Manchester  ?  If  there  be,  to  it  I  offer  this  delicious  morsel, 
only  apologizing  to  the  uninitiated  reader  for  the  pregnant 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      275 

allusiveness,    which   none    but    a    sworn    Khayydmite    can 
perfectly  apprehend: — 

MEASURE   FOR   MEASURE. 

Wake  !  for  the  closed  Pavilion  doors  have  kept 
Their  silence  while  the  white-eyed  Kaffir  slept, 

And  wailed  the  Nightingale  with  "Jug,  jug,  jug  V 
Whereat,  for  empty  cup,  the  White  Rose  wept. 

Enter  with  me  where  yonder  door  hangs  out 
Its  Red  Triangle  to  a  world  of  drought, 

Inviting  to  the  Palace  of  the  Djinn, 
Where  death,  Aladdin,  waits  as  Chuckerout. 

Methought,  last  night,  that  one  in  suit  of  woe 
Stood  by  the  Tavern-door  and  whispered,  "  Lo  ! 

The  Pledge  departed,  what  avails  the  Cup  ? 
Then  take  the  Pledge  and  let  the  Wine-cup  go. " 

But  I:  "  For  every  thirsty  soul  that  drains 
This  Anodyne  of  Thought  its  rim  contains — 

Freewill  the  can,  Necessity  the  must  ; 
Pour  off  the  must,  and  see,  the  can  remains. 

"  Then,  pot  or  glass,  why  label  it  '  IVt'tA  care '  ? 
Or  why  your  Sheepskin  with  my  Gourd  compare  ? 

Lo  !  here  the  Bar  and  I  the  only  Judge : — 
O  Dog  that  bit  me,  I  exact  an  hair  ! " 

No  versifier  of  the  present  day  lends  himself  so  readily  to 
parody  as  Mr.  Kipling.  His  "Story  of  Ung"  is  an  excellent 
satire  on  certain  methods  of  contemporary  literature : — 

"  Once  on  a  glittering  icefield,  ages  and  ages  ago, 
Ung,  a  maker  of  pictures,  fashioned  an  image  of  snow. 
Fashioned  the  form  of  a  tribesman  ;  gaily  he  whistled  and  sung, 
Working  the  snow  with  his  fingers,  ^  Read  ye  the  story  of  Ung  I' 

m  if  *  *  *  tf 

And  the  father  of  Ung  gave  answer,  that  was  old  and  wise  in  the  craft. 
Maker  of  pictures  aforetime,  he  leaned  on  his  lance  and  laughed  : 
'  If  they  could  see  as  thou  seest  they  would  do  as  thou  hast  done, 
And  each  man  would  make  him  a  picture,  and — what  would  become 
of  my  son  ?  ' " 

So  far  Mr.  Kipling.    A  parodist  writing  in  Trufh  applies  the 
same  "criticism  of  life"  to  commercial  production  : — 


276      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

THE   STORY   OF   BUNG. 

Once,  ere  the  glittering  icefields  paid  us  a  tribute  of  gold, 

Bung,  the  son  of  a  brewer,  heir  to  a  fortune  untold — 

Vast  was  his  knowledge  of  brewing — gaily  began  his  career. 

Whispered  the  voice  of  ambition,  "  Perhaps  they  will  make  thee  a  peer." 

People  who  sampled  his  liquor  wunk  an  incredulous  wink, 
Smelt  it,  then  drank  it,  and  grunted,  "  Verily  this  is  a  drink  ! " 
Even  the  Clubman  admitted,  wetting  the  tip  of  his  tongue, 
"  Lol  it  is  excellent  beer  !     Glory  and  honour  to  Bung  ! " 

Straightway  the  doubters  assembled,  a  prying,  unsatisfied  horde  : 
"It  is  said\h&  materials  used  are  approved  by  the  Revenue  Board  ; 
It  is  claimed  that  no  adjuncts  are  used,  the  advertisements  say  it  is  pure  ; 
True,  the  beer  is  good — and  it  may  be — but  can  the  consumer  be  sure  ?  " 

Wroth  was  that  brewer  of  liquor,  knowing  the  doubters  were  right. 
User  of  chemical  adjuncts,  and  methods  that  bear  not  the  light ; 
Little  he  recked  of  disclosures,  much  of  the  profits  he  cleared, 
So  in  the  ear  of  his  father  whispered  the  thing  that  he  feared. 

And  the  father  of  Bung  gave  answer,  that  was  old  and  wise  in  the  craft, 

"  If  they  cast  suspicion  upon  thee,  it  is  nought  but  a  random  shaft ; 

If  others  could  know  what  thou  knowest,  they  would  do  what  thou  hast 

done, 
And  men  would  drink  of  their  brewing,  and — what  would  become  of  my 

son? 

"  So  long  as  thy  beer  is  best,  so  long  shall  thy  brewing  win 
The  praise  no  money  can  buy,  and  the  money  that  praise  brings  in. 
And  if  the  majority's  pleased,  the  majority  does  not  mind 
The  how,  and  the  what,  and  the  whence.     Rejoice  that  the  public  is 
blind." 

And  Bung  took  his  father's  counsel,  and  fell  to  his  brewing  of  beer, 
And  he  gave  the  Government  cheques,  and  the  Government  made  him 

a  peer, 
And  the  doubters  ceased  from  their  doubting,  loudly  his  praises  they 

sung, 
Cursing  their  previous  blindness.     Heed  ye  the  story  of  Bung! 

But  no  effort  of  intentional  parody  can,  I  think,  surpass 
this  serious  adaptation  of  the  "  March  of  the  Men  of 
Harlech"  to  the  ecclesiastical  crisis  of  1898-9: — 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      277 

A    PROTESTANT   BATTLE-SONG; 

OR, 

PASTORAL   ADDRESS   TO    CHRISTIAN   BRETHREN. 

Sons  of  Freedom,  rouse  the  Nation  ! 
Or  Britain's  glorious  Reformation 
Soon  will  reach  dire  consummation  ! 

God  defend  the  right ! 
Shall  false  traitor-bishops  lead  us. 
Chained  to  Rome,  and  madly  speed  us, 
From  the  Word  of  God  which  freed  us. 
Unto  Papal  night? 

False  example  setting. 

Treachery  begetting, 

Temple,  Halifax,  Maclagan, 

Now  with  Rome  coquetting. 
Mighty  House  of  Convocation 
Thou  art  not  the  British  Nation  ! 
Every  warrior  to  your  station  ; 
Freedom  calls  for  fight  1 

Cuba,  Spain,  and  Madagascar, 
Where  the  Jesuits  are  master, 
Shout  our  shame  in  their  disaster,— 

What  shall  Britain  say  ? 
Rome,  thy  smile  is  cold  as  Zero. 
Drop  the  mask,  thou  crafty  Nero  I 
Britons  !  rouse  ye  !     Play  the  Hero  ! 
Right  shall  win  the  day  ! 

False  example  setting, 

Treachery  begetting, 

Temple,  Halifax,  Maclagan, 

Now  with  Rome  coquetting. 
Trust  in  God  !     His  truth  protecting, 
Prayer  and  duty  ne'er  neglecting. 
Fearless,  victory  expecting. 
Prepare  you  for  the  fray  ! 


XXIX. 

VERBAL  INFELICITIES. 

"  C^  non  h  vero"  said  a  very  great  Lord  Mayor,  "t'  ben 
traviata."  His  lordship's  linguistic  slip  served  him 
right.  Latin  is  fair  play,  though  some  of  us  are  in  the 
condition  of  the  auctioneer  in  The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  who 
had  brought  away  with  him  from  the  Great  Mudport  Free 
School  "a  sense  of  understanding  Latin  generally,  though 
his  comprehension  of  any  particular  Latin  was  not  ready." 
But  to  quote  from  any  other  language  is  to  commit  an  out- 
rage on  your  guests.  The  late  Sir  Robert  Fowler  was,  I 
believe,  the  only  Lord  Mayor  who  ever  ventured  to  quote 
Greek,  but  I  have  heard  him  do  it,  and  have  seen  the  turtle- 
fed  company  smile  with  alien  lips  in  the  painful  attempt  to 
look  as  if  they  understood  it,  and  in  abject  terror  lest  their 
neighbour  should  ask  them  to  translate.  Mr.  James  Payn 
used  to  tell  a  pleasing  tale  of  a  learned  clergyman  who 
quoted  Greek  at  dinner.  The  lady  who  was  sitting  by  Mr. 
Payn  inquired  in  a  whisper  what  one  of  these  quotations 
meant.  He  gave  her  to  understand,  with  a  well-assumed 
blush,  that   it  was   scarcely  fit  for   a  lady's   ear.      "  Good 

heavens!"  she  exclaimed;  "you  don't  mean  to  say " 

"  Please  don't  ask  any  more,"  said  Payn  pleadingly ;  "  I 
really  could  not  tell  you."  Which  was  true  to  the  ear,  if 
not  to  the  sense. 

Municipal  eloquence  has  been  time  out  of  mind  a  store- 
house of  delight      It  was,  according  to  tradition,  a  provin- 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      279 

cial  mayor  who,  blessed  with  a  numerous  progeny,  publicly 
expressed  the  pious  hope  that  his  sons  might  grow  up  to  be 
better  citizens  than  their  father,  and  his  daughters  more 
virtuous  women  than  their  mother.  There  was  a  worthy 
alderman  at  Oxford  in  my  time  who  was  entertained  at  a 
public  dinner  on  his  retirement  from  civic  office.  In  reply- 
ing to  the  toast  of  his  health,  he  said  it  had  always  been  his 
anxious  endeavour  to  administer  justice  without  swerving 
to  "partiality  on  the  one  hand  or  impartiality  on  the  other." 
Surely  he  must  have  been  near  akin  to  the  moralist  who 
always  tried  to  tread  "  the  narrow  path  which  lay  between 
right  and  wrong ; "  or,  perchance,  to  the  newly-elected  mayor 
who,  in  returning  thanks  for  his  elevation,  said  that  during 
his  year  of  office  he  should  lay  aside  all  his  political  pre- 
possessions and  be,  "  like  Caesar's  wife,  all  things  to  all  men." 
A  well-known  dignitary,  rebuking  his  housemaid  for  using 
his  bath  during  his  absence  from  the  Deanery,  said,  "  I  am 
grieved  to  think  that  you  should  do  behind  my  back  what 
you  wouldn't  do  before  my  face ; "  and  it  was  related  of 
my  old  friend  Dean  Burgon  that  once,  in  a  sermon  on  the 
transcendent  merits  of  the  Anglican  school  of  theology,  he 
exclaimed,  with  a  fervour  which  was  all  his  own,  "  May  I 
live  the  life  of  a  Taylor,  and  die  the  death  of  a  Bull ! "  The 
late  Lord  Coleridge,  eulogizing  Oxford,  said  in  his  most 
dulcet  tone,  "  I  speak  not  of  this  college  or  of  that,  but  of 
the  University  as  a  whole ;  and,  gentlemen,  what  a  whole 
Oxford  is ! " 

The  admirable  Mr.  Brooke,  when  he  purposed  to  contest 
the  Borough  of  Middlemarch,  found  Will  Ladislaw  extremely 
useful,  because  he  "  remembered  what  the  right  quotations 
are — Omne  tulit  punctttm,  and  that  sort  of  thing."  And 
certainly  an  apt  quotation  is  one  of  the  most  effective  deco- 
rations of  a  public  speech ;  but  the  dangers  of  inapposite- 
ness  are  correspondingly  formidable.  I  have  always  heard 
that  the  most  infelicitous  quotation  on  record  was  made  by 


28o     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

the  fourth  Lord  FitzwiUiam  at  a  county  meeting  held  at  York 
to  raise  a  fund  for  the  repair  of  the  Minster  after  the  fire 
which  so  nearly  destroyed  it  in  1829.  Previous  speakers 
had,  naturally,  appealed  to  the  pious  munificence  of  Church- 
men. Lord  FitzwiUiam,  as  the  leading  Whig  of  the  county, 
thought  that  it  would  be  an  excellent  move  to  enlist  the 
sympathies  of  the  rich  Nonconformists,  and  that  he  was  the 
man  to  do  it.  So  he  perorated  somewhat  after  the  following 
fashion  : — "  And,  if  the  liberality  of  Yorkshire  Churchmen 
proves  insufficient  to  restore  the  chief  glory  of  our  native 
county,  then,  with  all  confidence,  I  turn  to  our  excellent 
Dissenting  brethren,  and  I  exclaim,  with  the  Latin  poet, 

'  Flectere  si  nequeo  superos  Acheronta  movebo.' " 

Mr.  Anstey  Guthrie  has  some  pleasant  instances  of  texts 
misapplied.  He  was  staying  once  in  a  Scotch  country-house 
where,  over  his  bed,  hung  an  illuminated  scroll  with  the  in- 
scription, "  Occupy  till  I  come,"  which,  as  Mr.  Guthrie  justly 
observes,  is  an  unusually  extended  invitation,  even  for 
Scottish  notions  of  hospitality.  According  to  the  same 
authority,  the  leading  citizen  of  a  seaside  town  erected 
some  iron  benches  on  the  sea  front,  and,  with  the  view  of 
at  once  commemorating  his  own  munificence  and  giving  a 
profitable  turn  to  the  thoughts  of  the  sitters,  inscribed  on 
the  backs — 

THESE   SEATS 

WERE  PRESENTED  TO  THE  TOWN  OF   SHINGLETON 

BY 

JOSEPH  BUGGINS,  Esq., 

J.  p.    FOR  THE  BOROUGH, 
"  THE   SEA   IS   HIS,    AND  HE  MADE   IT." 

Nothing  is  more  deeply  rooted  in  the  mind  of  the  average 
man  than  that  certain  well-known  aphorisms  of  piety  are  to 
be  found  in  the  Bible — possibly  in  that  lost  book  the  Second 
Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  which  Dickens  must  have  had  in 
his  mind  when  he  wrote  in  Dofnbey  and  Son  of  the  First 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      281 

Epistle  to  that  Church.  "  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in 
death  "  is  a  favourite  quotation  from  this  imaginary  Scrip- 
ture. "  His  end  was  peace "  holds  its  place  on  many  a 
tomb  in  virtue  of  a  similar  belief.  "  He  tempers  the  wind 
to  the  shorn  lamb "  is,  I  believe,  commonly  attributed  to 
Solomon ;  and  a  charming  song  which  was  popular  in  my 
youth  declared  that,  though  the  loss  of  friends  was  sad,  it 
would  have  been  much  sadder, 

1  "  Had  we  ne'er  heard  that  Scripture  word, 

'  '  Not  lost,  but  gone  before.'  " 

Mrs.  Gamp,  with  some  hazy  recollections  of  the  New 
Testament  floating  in  her  mind,  invented  the  admirable 
aphorism  that  "  Rich  folks  may  ride  on  camels,  but  it  ain't 
so  easy  for  'em  to  see  out  of  a  needle's  eye."  And  a  lady  of 
my  acquaintance,  soliloquizing  on  the  afflictions  of  life  and 
the  serenity  of  her  own  temper,  exclaimed,  "  How  true  it  is 
what  Solomon  says,  '  A  contented  spirit  is  like  a  perpetual 
dropping  on  a  rainy  day ' ! " 

A  Dissenting  minister,  winding  up  a  week's  mission,  is 
reported  to  have  said,  "  And  if  any  spark  of  grace  has  been 
kindled  by  these  exercises,  oh,  we  pray  Thee,  water  that 
spark."  A  watered  spark  is  good,  but  what  of  a  harnessed 
volcano  ?  When  that  eminent  Civil  servant,  Sir  Hugh  Owen, 
retired  from  the  Local  Government  Board,  a  gentleman  wrote 
to  the  Daily  Chronicle  in  favour  of  "  harnessing  this  by  no 
means  extinct  volcano  to  the  great  task  "  of  codifying  the 
Poor  Law.  An  old  peasant-woman  in  Buckinghamshire, 
extolling  the  merits  of  her  favourite  curate,  said  to  the  rector, 
"I  do  say  that  Mr,  Woods  is  quite  an  angel  in  sheep's 
clothing;"  and  Dr.  Liddon  told  me  of  a  Presbyterian 
minister  who  was  called  on  at  short  notice  to  officiate  at  the 
parish  church  of  Crathie  in  the  presence  of  the  Queen,  and, 
transported  by  this  tremendous  experience,  burst  forth  in 
rhetorical  supplication — "  Grant  that  as  she  grows  to  be  an 


282     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

old  woman  she  may  be  made  a  new  man ;  and  that  in  all 
righteous  causes  she  may  go  forth  before  her  people  like  a 
he-goat  on  the  mountains." 

Undergraduates,  whose  wretched  existence  for  a  week 
before  each  examination  is  spent  in  the  hasty  acquisition  of 
much  ill-assorted  and  indigestible  knowledge,  are  not  seldom 
the  victims  of  similar  confusions.  At  Oxford — and,  for  all 
I  know,  at  Cambridge  too — a  hideous  custom  prevails  of 
placing  before  the  examinee  a  list  of  isolated  texts,  and  re- 
quiring him  to  supply  the  name  of  the  speaker,  the, occasion, 
and  the  context. 

Question. — "  *  My  punishment  is  greater  than  I  can  bear.' 
Who  said  this  ?     Under  what  circumstances  ?  " 

Answer. — "Agag,  when  he  was  hewn  in  pieces." 

One  wonders  at  what  stage  of  the  process  he  began  to 
think  it  was  going  a  little  too  far. 

"  What  is  faith  ? "  inquired  an  examiner  in  "  Pass- 
Divinity."  "  Faith  is  the  faculty  by  which  we  are  enabled 
to  believe  that  which  we  know  is  not  true,"  replied  the 
undergraduate,  who  had  learned  his  definition  by  heart,  but 
imperfectly,  from  a  popular  cram-book.  A  superficial  know- 
ledge of  literature  may  sometimes  be  a  snare.  "Can  you 
give  me  any  particulars  of  Oliver  Cromwell's  death  ?  "  asked 
an  Examiner  in  History  in  1874.  "Oh  yes,  sir,"  eagerly 
replied  the  victim :  "  he  exclaimed,  '  Had  I  but  served  my 
God  as  I  have  served  my  King,  He  would  not  in  mine  age 
have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies.' " 

"  Things  one  would  rather  have  expressed  differently  "  are, 
I  believe,  a  discovery  of  Mr.  Punch's.  Of  course  he  did  not 
create  them.  They  must  be  as  old  as  human  nature  itself. 
The  history  of  their  discovery  is  not  unlike  that  of  another 
epoch-making  achievement  of  the  same  great  genius,  as  set 
forth  in  the  preface  to  the  Book  of  Snobs.  First,  the  world 
was  made ;  then,  as  a  matter  of  course,  snobs ;  they  existed 
for  years  and  years,  and  were  no  more  known  than  America. 


'  COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      283 

But  presently — ingens  patebat  tellus — people  became  darkly 
feiware  that  there  was  such  a  race.  Then  in  time  a  name 
arose  to  designate  that  race.  That  name  has  spread  over 
England  like  railroads.  Snobs  are  known  and  recognized 
throughout  an  Empire  on  which  the  sun  never  sets.  Punch 
appeared  at  the  ripe  season  to  chronicle  their  history,  and 
the  individual  came  forth  to  write  that  history  in  Punch. 
We  may  apply  this  historical  method  to  the  origin  and 
discovery  of  "Things  one  would  rather  have  expressed 
diiferently."  They  must  have  existed  as  long  as  language ; 
they  must  have  flourished  wherever  men  and  women  en- 
countered one  another  in  social  intercourse.  But  the  glory 
of  having  discovered  them,  recognized  them,  classified  them, 
and  established  them  among  the  permanent  sources  of  human 
enjoyment  belongs  to  Mr.  Punch  alone. 

"  Pie  was  the  first  that  ever  burst 
Into  that  silent  sea." 

Let  US  humbly  follow  in  his  waka 

We  shall  see  later  on  that  no  department  of  human  speech 
is  altogether  free  from  "  Things  one  would  rather  have  ex- 
pressed differently ; "  but,  naturally,  the  great  bulk  of  them 
belong  to  social  conversation;  and,  just  as  the  essential 
quality  of  a  "  bull "  is  that  it  expresses  substantial  sense 
in  the  guise  of  verbal  nonsense,  so  the  social  "  Thing  one 
would  rather  have  expressed  differently  "  must,  to  be  really 
precious,  show  a  polite  intention  struggling  with  verbal  in- 
felicity. Mr.  Corney  Grain,  narrating  his  early  experiences 
as  a  social  entertainer,  used  to  describe  an  evening  party 

given  by  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  S at  which  he  was 

engaged  to  play  and  sing.     Late  in  the  evening  the  young 

Duke  of  S came  in,  and  Mr.  Grain  heard  his  mother 

prompting  him  in  an  anxious  undertone :  "  Pray  go  and 
say  something  civil  to  Mr.  Grain.  You  know  he's  quite  a 
gentleman — not  a  common  professional  person."     Thus  in- 


284     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

structed,  the  young  Duke  strolled  up  to  the  piano  and  said, 
"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Grain.     I'm  sorry  I  am  so  late,  and 

have  missed  your  performance.     But  I  was  at  Lady 's. 

We  had  a  dancing-dog  there." 

The  married  daughter  of  one  of  the  most  brilliant  men 
of  Queen  Victoria's  reign  has  an  only  child.  An  amiable 
matron  of  her  acquaintance,  anxious  to  be  thoroughly  kind, 

said,    "  O    Mrs.    W ,    I   hear   that    you    have    such  a 

clever  little  boy."  Mrs.  W.,  beaming  with  a  mother's  pride, 
replied,  "  Well,  yes,  I  think  Roger  is  rather  a  sharp  little 
fellow."  "  Yes,"  replied  her  friend.  "  How  often  one  sees 
that — the  talent  skipping  a  generation ! "  A  stately  old 
rector  in  Buckinghamshire — a  younger  son  of  a  great  family 
— whom  I  knew  well  in  my  youth,  had,  and  was  justly 
proud  of,  a  remarkably  pretty  and  well-appointed  rectory. 
To  him  an  acquaintance,  coming  for  the  first  time  to  call, 
genially  exclaimed,  "What  a  delightful  rectory!  Really  a 
stranger  arriving  in  the  village,  and  not  knowing  who  lived 
here,  would  take  it  for  a  gentleman's  house."  One  of  our 
best-known  novelists,  the  most  sensitively  courteous  of  men, 
arriving  very  late  at  a  dinner-party,  was  overcome  with 
confusion — "  I  am  truly  sorry  to  be  so  shockingly  late." 
The  genial  hostess,   only  meaning  to  assure  him  that  he 

was  not  the  last,  emphatically  replied  "O,  Mr. ,  you 

can't  come  too  late."  A  member  of  the  present  *  Cabinet 
was  engaged  with  his  wife  and  daughter  to  dine  at  a  friend's 
house  in  the  height  of  the  season.  The  daughter  fell  ill 
at  the  last  moment,  and  her  parents  first  telegraphed  her 
excuses  for  dislocating  the  party,  and  then  repeated  them 
earnestly  on  arriving.  The  hostess,  receiving  them  with  the 
most  cordial  sympathy,  exclaimed,  "Oh,  it  doesn't  matter 
in  the  least  to  us ;  we  are  only  so  sorry  for  your  daughter." 
An  eminent  authoress,  who  lives  not  a  hundred  miles  from 
Richmond  Hill,  was  asked,  in  my  hearing,  if  she  had  been 

*  1897. 


r 

I  COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      285 

to  "write  her  name"  at  White  Lodge,  in  Richmond  Park 
(then  occupied  by  the  Duchess  of  Teck),  on  the  occasion 
of  an  important  event  in  the  Duchess's  family.  She  replied 
that  she  had  not,  because  she  did  not  know  the  Duchess, 
aind  saw  no  use  in  adding  another  stranger's  signature  to 
the  enormous  list.  "  Oh,  that's  a  pity,"  was  the  rejoinder ; 
"the  Royal  Family  think  more  of  the  quantity  of  names 
than  the  quality." 

In  all  these  cases  the  courtesy  of  the  intention  was 
manifest;  but  sometimes  it  is  less  easy  to  discover.  Not 
long  ago  Sir  Henry  Irving  most  kindly  went  down  to  one 
of  our  great  Public  Schools  to  give  some  Shakespearean 
recitations.  Talking  over  the  arrangements  with  the  Head 
Master,  who  was  not  a  man  of  felicities  and  facilities,  he 
said,  "  Each  piece  will  take  about  an  hour ;  and  there 
must  be  fifteen  minutes'  interval  between  the  two."  "Oh! 
certainly,"  replied  the  Head  Master ;  "  you  couldn't  expect 
the  boys  to  stand  two  hours  of  it  without  a  break."  The 
newly  appointed  rector  of  one  of  the  chief  parishes  in 
London  was  entertained  at  dinner  by  a  prominent  member 
of  the  congregation.  Conversation  turned  on  the  use  of 
stimulants  as  an  aid  to  intellectual  and  physical  effort,  and 
Mr.  Gladstone's  historic  egg-flip  was  cited.  Well,  for  my 
own  part,"  said  the  divine,  "  I  am  quite  independent  of  that 
kind  of  help.  The  only  occasion  in  my  life  when  I  used 
anything  of  the  sort  was  when  I  was  in  for  my  tripos 
at  Cambridge,  and  then,  by  the  doctor's  order,  I  took  a 
strong  dose  of  strychnine,  in  order  to  clear  the  brain."  The 
hostess,  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest  interest,  inquired,  "How 
soon  did  the  effect  pass  off?"  and  the  rector,  a  man  of 
academical  distinction,  who  had  done  his  level  best  in  his 
inaugural  sermons  on  the  previous  Sunday,  didn't  half  like 
the  question. 

Not  long  ago  I  was  dining  with  one  of  the  City  Com- 
panies.    On  my  right  was  another  guest — a  member  of  the 


286      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Worshipful  Company  of  Butchers.  We  had  a  long  and 
genial  conversation  on  topics  relevant  to  Sfnithfield,  when, 
in  the  midst  of  it,  I  was  suddenly  called  on  to  return  thanks 
for  the  visitors.  The  chairman,  in  proposing  the  toast,  was 
good  enough  to  speak  of  my  belongings  and  myself  in 
flattering  terms,  to  which  I  hope  that  I  suitably  responded. 
When  I  resumed  my  seat  my  butcher  friend  exclaimed, 
with  the  most  obvious  .sincerity,  "  I  declare,  sir,  I'm  quite 
ashamed  of  myself.  To  think  that  I  have  been  sitting 
alongside  of  a  gentleman  all  the  evening,  and  never  found 
it  out  1 " 

The  doorkeepers  and  attendants  at  the  House  of  Commons 
are  all  old  servants,  who  generally  have  lived  in  great  families, 
and  have  obtained  their  places  through  influential  recom- 
mendations. One  of  these  fine  old  men  encountered,  on 
the  opening  day  of  a  new  Parliament,  a  young  sprig  of  a 
great  family  who  had  just  been  for  the  first  time  elected 
to  the  House  of  Commons,  and  thus  accosted  him,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes :  "  I  am  glad  indeed,  sir,  to  see  you  here ; 
and  when  I  think  that  I  helped  to  put  your  noble  grand- 
father and  grandmother  both  into  their  coffins,  it  makes  me 
feel  quite  at  home  with  you."  Never,  surely,  was  a  political 
career  more  impressively  auspicated. 

These  Verbal  Infelicities  are  by  no  means  confined  to 
social  intercourse.  Lord  Cross,  when  the  House  laughed 
at  his  memorable  speech  in  favour  of  Spiritual  Peers,  ex- 
claimed in  solemn  remonstrance,  "  I  hear  a  smile."  When 
the  Bishop  of  Southwell,  preaching  in  the  London  Mission 
of  1885,  began  his  sermon  by  saying,  "  I  feel  a  feeling  which 
I  feel  you  all  feel,"  it  is  only  fair  to  assume  that  he  said 
something  which  he  would  rather  have  expressed  differently. 
Quite  lately  I  heard  an  Irish  rhetorician  exclaim,  "  If  the  ■ 
Liberal  Party  is  to  maintain  its  position,  it  must  move 
forward."  A  clerical  orator,  fresh  from  a  signal  triumph 
at  a  Diocesan  Conference,  informed  me,  together  with  some 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      287 

hundreds  of  other  hearers,  that  when  his  resolution  was  put 
"quite  a  shower  of  hands  went  up  ;"  and  at  a  missionary 
meeting  I  once  heard  that  impressive  personage,  "the 
Deputation  from  the  Parent  Society,"  involve  himself  very 
delightfully  in  extemporaneous  imagery.  He  had  been  ex- 
plaining that  here  in  England  we  hear  so  much  of  the  rival 
systems  and  operations  of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gospel  and  the  Church  Missionary  Society  that  we 
are  often  led  to  regard  them  as  hostile  institutions  ;  whereas 
if,  as  he  himself  had  done,  his  hearers  would  go  out  to  the 
mission-field  and  observe  the  working  of  the  societies  at 
close  quarters,  they  would  find  them  to  be  in  essential  unison. 
"  Even  so,"  he  exclaimed ;  "as  I  walked  in  the  beautiful 
park  which  adjoins  your  town  to-day,  I  noticed  what  ap- 
peared at  a  distance  to  be  one  gigantic  tree.  It  was  only 
when  I  got  close  to  it  and  sat  down  under  its  branches 
that  I  perceived  that  what  I  had  thought  was  one  tree  was 
really  two  trees — as  completely  distinct  in  origin,  growth, 
and  nature  as  if  they  had  stood  a  hundred  miles  apart." 
No  one  in  the  audience  (besides  myself)  noticed  the  in- 
felicity of  the  illustration ;  nor  do  I  think  that  the  worthy 
"  Deputation,"  if  he  had  perceived  it,  would  have  had  the 
presence  of  mind  to  act  as  a  famous  preacher  did  in  like 
circumstances,  and,  throwing  up  his  hands,  exclaim,  "  Oh, 
blessed  contrast ! " 

But  it  does  not  always  require  verbal  infelicity  to  produce 
a  "  Thing  one  would  rather  have  expressed  differently." 
The  mere  misplacement  of  a  comma  will  do  it.  A  dis- 
tinguished graduate  of  Oxford  determined  to  enter  the 
Nonconformist  ministry,  and,  quite  unnecessarily,  published 
a  manifesto  setting  forth  his  reasons  and  his  intentions.  In 
his  enumeration  of  the  various  methods  by  which  he  was 
going  to  mark  his  aloofness  from  the  sacerdotalism  of  the 
Established  Church,  he  wrote :  "  I  shall  wear  no  clothes, 
to  distinguish  me  from  my  fellow- Christians."     Need  I  say 


288      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

that  all  the  picture-shops  of  the  University  promptly  dis- 
played a  fancy  portrait  of  the  newly  fledged  minister  clad 
in  what  Artemus  Ward  called  "  the  scandalous  style  of  the 
Greek  slave,"  and  bearing  the  unkind  inscription — "  The 
Rev.  X.  Y.  Z.  distinguishing  himself  from  his  fellow-Chris- 
tians"? If  a  comma  too  much  brought  ruin  into  Mr.  Z.'s 
allocution,  a  comma  too  little  was  the  undoing  of  a  well- 
remembered  advertisement.  "A  Piano  for  sale  by  a  lady 
about  to  leave  England  in  an  oak  case  with  carved  legs." 

An  imperfect  sympathy  with  the  prepossessions  of  one's 
environment  may  often  lead  the  unwary  talker  to  give  a 
totally  erroneous  impression  of  his  meaning.  Thus  the 
Professor  of  Sanskrit  at  Oxford  once  brought  an  Indian 
army  chaplain  to  dine  at  the  high  table  of  Oriel,  and  in  the 
common  room  after  dinner  the  Fellows  courteously  turned 
the  conversation  to  the  subject  of  life  and  work  in  India,  on 
which  the  chaplain  held  forth  with  fluency  and  zest.  When 
he  had  made  an  end  of  speaking,  the  Professor  of  Anglo- 
Saxon,  who  was  not  only  a  very  learned  scholar  but  also  a 
very  devout  clergyman,  leaned  forward  and  said,  "  I  am  a 
little  hard  of  hearing,  sir,  but  from  what  I  could  gather  I 
rejoice  to  infer  that  you  consider  the  position  of  an  army 
chaplain  in  India  a  hopeful  field."  "  Hopeful  field  indeed," 
replied  the  chaplain ;  *'  I  should  rather  think  so !  You 
begin  at  ;;^4oo  a  year." 

A  too  transparent  honesty  which  reveals  each  transient 
emotion  through  the  medium  of  suddenly  chosen  words  is 
not  without  its  perils.  None  that  heard  it  could  ever  for- 
get Norman  Macleod's  story  of  the  Presbyterian  minister 
who,  when  he  noticed  champagne-glasses  on  the  dinner- 
table,  began  his  grace,  "  Bountiful  Jehovah !  "  but,  when  he 
saw  only  claret-glasses,  subsided  into,  "  We  are  not  worthy 
of  the  least  of  Thy  mercies."  I  deny  the  right  of  Bishop 
Wilberforce  in  narrating  this  story  in  his  diary  to  stigmatize 
this  good  man  as   "gluttonous."     He  was  simply  honest. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      289 

and  his  honesty  led  him  into  one  of  those  "Things  one  would 
rather  have  expressed  differently."  But,  however  expressed, 
the  meaning  would  have  been  the  same,  and  equally  sound. 

Absence  of  mind,  of  course,  conversationally  slays  its 
thousands,  though  perhaps  more  by  the  way  of  "  Things 
one  would  rather  have  left  unsaid "  than  by  "  Things  one 
would  rather  have  expressed  differently."  The  late  Arch- 
bishop Trench,  a  man  of  singularly  vague  and  dreamy  habits, 
resigned  the  See  of  Dublin  on  account  of  advancing  years, 
and  settled  in  London.  He  once  went  back  to  pay  a  visit 
to  his  successor,  Lord  Plunket.  Finding  himself  back  again 
in  his  old  palace,  sitting  at  his  old  dinner-table,  and  gazing 
across  it  at  his  old  wife,  he  lapsed  in  memory  to  the  days 
when  he  was  master  of  the  house,  and  gently  remarked  to 
Mrs.  Trench,  "I  am  afraid,  my  love,  that  we  must  put  this 
cook  down  among  our  failures."  Delight  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Plunket ! 

Medical  men  are  sometimes  led  by  carelessness  of  phrase 
into  giving  their  patients  shocks.  The  country  doctor  who, 
combining  in  his  morning's  round  a  visit  to  the  Squire  and 
another  to  the  Vicar,  said  that  he  was  trying  to  kill  two 
birds  with  one  stone,  would  probably  have  expressed  himself 
differently  if  he  had  premeditated  his  remark  ;  and  a  London 
physician  who  found  his  patient  busy  composing  a  book  of 
Recollections,  and  asked,  "  Why  have  you  put  it  oflf  so 
long  ? "  uttered  a  "  Thing  one  would  rather  have  left  un- 
said." The  "  donniest "  of  Oxford  dons  in  an  unexampled 
fit  of  good  nature  once  undertook  to  discharge  the  duties 
of  the  chaplain  of  Oxford  Jail  during  the  Long  Vacation. 
Unluckily  it  so  fell  out  that  he  had  to  perform  the  terrible 
office  of  preparing  a  criminal  for  execution,  and  it  was  felt 
that  he  said  a  "Thing  one  would  rather  have  expressed 
differently,"  when,  at  the  close  of  his  final  interview,  he  left 
the  condemned  cell,  observing,  "Well,  at  eight  o'clock  to- 
morrow morning,  then." 


290      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

The  path  of  those  who  inhabit  Courts  is  thickly  beset 
with  pitfalls.  There  are  so  many  things  that  must  be  left 
unsaid,  and  so  many  more  that  must  be  expressed  differ- 
ently. Who  does  not  know  the  "Copper  Horse"  at 
Windsor — that  equestrian  statue  at  the  end  of  the  Long 
Walk  to  which  (and  back  again)  the  local  flyman  always 
offers  to  drive  the  tourist  ?  Queen  Victoria  was  entertain- 
ing a  great  man,  who,  in  the  afternoon,  walked  from  the 
Castle  to  Cumberland  Lodge.  At  dinner  her  Majesty,  full, 
as  always,  of  gracious  solicitude  for  the  comfort  of  her  guests, 
said,  "I  hope  you  were  not  tired  by  your  long  walk?" 
"  Oh,  not  at  all,  thank  you,  ma'am.  I  got  a  lift  back  as  far 
as  the  Copper  Horse."  "  As  far  as  what  ? "  inquired  her 
,  Majesty,    in    palpable    astonishment.      "Oh,    the    Copper 

\    Horse,  at  the  end  of  the  Long  Walk!"     "That's  not  a 

•I      copper  horse.     That's  my  grandfather ! " 

A  little  learning  is  proverbially  dangerous,  and  often  lures 
vague  people  into  unsuspected  perils.  One  of  the  most  | 
ckarming  ladies  of  my  acquaintance,  remonstrating  with  her 
mother  for  letting  the  fire  go  out  on  a  rather  chilly  day, 
exclaimed,  "  O  dear  mamma,  how  could  you  be  so  care- 
less ?  If  you  had  been  a  Vestal  Virgin  you  would  have  been 
bricked  up."  When  the  London  County  Council  first  came 
into  existence,  it  used  to  assemble  in  the  Guildhall,  and  the 
following  dialogue  took  place  between  a  highly  cultured 
councillor  and  one  of  his  commercial  colleagues. 

Cultured  Councillor.  "The  acoustics  of  this  place  seem 

Y     very  bad." 
y  Commercial  Councillor  (sniffing).  "  Indeed,  sir  ?    I  haven't 

perceived  anything  unpleasant." 

A  well-known  lady  had  lived  for  some  years  in  a  house  in 
Harley  Street  which  contained  some  fine  ornamentation  by 
Angelica  Kauffmann,  and,  on  moving  to  another  quarter  of 
the  town,  she  loudly  lamented  the  loss  of  her  former  drawing- 
room,  "for  it  was  so  beutifuUy  painted  by  Fra  Angelico." 


/ 


/ 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      291 

Mistakes  of  idiom  are  the  prolific  parents  of  error,  or,  as 
Mrs.  Lirriper  said,  with  an  admirable  confusion  of  metaphors, 
breed  fruitful  hot  water  for  all  parties  concerned.  "The 
wines  of  this  hotel  leave  one  nothing  to  hope  for,"  was  the 
alluring  advertisement  of  a  Swiss  innkeeper  who  thought 
that  his  vintages  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Lady  Dufferin, 
in  her  Reminiscences  of  Viceregal  Life,  has  some  excellent 
instances  of  the  same  sort.  "  Your  Enormity  "  is  a  delight- 
ful variant  on  "Your  Excellency;"  and  there  is  something 
really  pathetic  in  the  Baboo's  benediction,  "You  have  been 
very  good  to  us,  and  may  Almighty  God  give  you  tit~7or 
tat."  But  to  deride  these  errors  of  idiom  scarcely  lies  in 
"tEe  mouth  of  an  Englishman.  A  friend  of  mine,  wishing  to 
express  his  opinion  that  a  Frenchman  was  an   idiot,  told 

him  that  he  was  a  "cretonne."     Lord  R ,  preaching  at 

the  French  Exhibition,  implored  his  hearers  to  come  and 
drink  of  the  "eau  de  vie;"  and  a  good-natured  Cockney, 
complaining  of  the  incivility  of  French  drivers,  said,  "  It  is 
so  uncalled  for,  because  I  always  try  to  make  things  pleasant  / 
by  beginning  with  'Bon  jour,  Cochon.'"  Even  in  our  own 
tongue  Englishmen  sometimes  come  to  grief  over  an  idio- 
matic proverb.  In  a  debate  in  Convocation  at  Oxford,  Dr. 
Liddon,  referring  to  a  concession  made  by  the  opposite  side, 
said,  "It  is  proverbially  ungracious  to  look  a  gift  horse  in  the 
face."  And,  though  the  undergraduates  in  the  gallery  roared 
"  Mouth,  sir ;  mouth  ! "  till  they  were  hoarse,  the  Angelic 
Doctor  never  perceived  the  unmeaningness  of  his  proverb. 

Some  years  ago  a  complaint  of  inefficiency  was  preferred 
against  a  workhouse-chaplain,  and,  when  the  Board  of 
Guardians  came  to  consider  the  case,  one  of  the  Guardians, 

defending  the  chaplain,  observed  that  "  Mr.  P was  only 

fifty-two,  and  had  a  mother  running  about."  Commenting 
on  this  line  of  defence,  a  newspaper,  which  took  the  view 
hostile  to  the  chaplain,  caustically  remarked  : — "  On  this 
principle,  the  more  athletic  or  restless  were  a  clergyman's 


292      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

relatives,  the  more  valuable  an  acquisition  would  he  himself 
be  to  the  Church.  Supposing  that  some  Embertide  a  bishop 
were  fortunate  enough  to  secure  among  his  candidates  for 
ordination  a  man  who,  in  addition  to  'a  mother  running 
about,'  had  a  brother  who  gained  prizes  at  Lillie  Bridge, 
and  a  cousin  who  pulled  in  the  'Varsity  Eight,  and  a  nephew 
who  was  in  the  School  Eleven,  to  say  nothing  of  a  grand- 
mother who  had  St.  Vitus's  Dance,  and  an  aunt  in  the 
country  whose  mind  wandered,  then  surely  Dr.  Liddon  him- 
self would  have  to  look  out  for  his  laurels." 

The  "  Things  one  would  rather  have  expressed  differently  " 
for  which  reporters  are  responsible  are  of  course  legion. 
I  forbear  to  enlarge  on  such  familiar  instances  as  "the 
shattered  libertine  of  debate,"  applied  to  Mr.  Bernal 
Osborne,  and  " the  roaring  loom  of  the  Times"  when  Mr. 
Lowell  had  spoken  of  the  "roaring  loom  of  time."  I  con- 
tent myself  with  two  which  occurred  in  my  own  immediate 
circle.  A  clerical  uncle  of  mine  took  the  Pledge  in  his  old 
age,  and  at  a  public  meeting  stated  that  his  reason  for  so 
doing  was  that  for  thirty  years  he  had  been  trying  to  cure 
drunkards  by  making  them  drink  in  moderation,  but  had 
never  once  succeeded.  He  was  thus  reported  : — "  The  rev. 
gentleman  stated  that  his  reason  for  taking  the  Pledge  was 
that  for  thirty  years  he  had  been  trying  to  drink  in  mode- 
ration, but  had  never  once  succeeded."  Another  near 
relation  of  mine,  protesting  on  a  public  platform  against 
some  misrepresentation  by  opponents,  said  : — "  The  worst 
enemy  that  any  cause  can  have  to  fight  is  a  double  lie  in  the 
shape  of  half  a  truth."  The  newspaper  which  reported  the 
proceedings  gave  the  sentiment  thus  : — "  The  worst  enemy 
that  any  cause  can  have  to  fight  is  a  double  eye  in  the  shape 
of  half  a  tooth."  And,  when  an  indignant  remonstrance 
was  addressed  to  the  editor,  he  blandly  said  that  he  cer- 
tainly had  not  understood  the  phrase,  but  imagined  it  must 
be  *'  a  quotation  from  an  old  writer." 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      293 

But  if  journalistic  reporting,  on  which  some  care  and 
thought  are  bestowed,  sometimes  proves  misleading,  common 
rumour  is  far  more  prolific  of  things  which  would  have  been 
better  expressed  differently.  It  is  now  (thank  goodness  !) 
a  good  many  years  since  "  spelling-bees "  were  a  favourite 
amusement  in  London  drawing-rooms.  The  late  Lady 
Combermere,  an  octogenarian  dame  who  retained  a  sempi- 
ternal taste  for  les  petits  jeux  innocents,  kindly  invited  a  young 
curate  whom  she  had  been  asked  to  befriend  to  take  part  in 
a  "  spelling-bee."  He  got  on  splendidly  for  a  while,  and  then 
broke  down  among  the  repeated  "  n's "  in  "  drunkenness." 
Returning  crestfallen  to  his  suburban  *parish,  he  was  soon 
gratified  by  hearing  the  rumour  that  he  had  been  turned  out 
of  a  lady's  house  at  the  West  End  for  drunkenness. 

Shy  people  are  constantly  getting  into  conversational 
scrapes,  their  tongues  carrying  them  whither  they  know  not, 
like  the  shy  young  man  who  was  arguing  with  a  charming 
and  intellectual  young  lady. 

Charming  Young  Lady.  "  The  worst  of  me  is  that  I  am 
so  apt  to  be  run  away  with  by  an  inference." 

Shy  Young  Man.    "  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  was  an  inference  ! " 

When  the  late  Dr.  Woodford  became  Bishop  of  Ely,  a 
rumour  went  before  him  in  the  diocese  that  he  was  a 
misogynist.  He  was  staying,  on  his  first  round  of  Con- 
firmations, at  a  country  house,  attended  by  an  astonishingly 
mild  young  chaplain,  very  like  the  hero  of  The  Private 
Secretary.  In  the  evening-  the  lady  of  the  house  said  archly 
to  this  youthful  Levite,  "  I  hope  you  can  contradict  the  story 
which  we  have  heard  about  our  new  bishop,  that  he  hates 
ladies."  The  chaplain,  in  much  confusion,  hastily  replied, 
"Oh,  that  is  quite  an  exaggeration;  but  I  do  think  his 
Lordship  feels  safer  with  the  married  ladies." 

Let  me  conclude  with  a  personal  reminiscence  of  a 
"  Thing  one  would  rather  have  left  unsaid."  A  remark- 
ably pompous  clergyman  who  was  an  Inspector  of  Schools 


294     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

showed  me  a  theme  on  a  Scriptural  subject,  written  by  a 
girl  who  was  trying  to  pass  from  being  a  pupil-teacher  to  a 
schoolmistress.  The  theme  was  full  of  absurd  mistakes, 
over  which  the  inspector  snorted  stertorously.  "  Well,  what 
do  you  think  of  that?"  he  inquired,  when  I  handed  back 
the  paper.  "Oh,"  said  I,  in  perfectly  good  faith,  "the 
mistakes  are  bad  enough,  but  the  writing  is  far  worse.  It 
really  is  a  disgrace."  "  Oh,  my  writing !  "  said  the  inspector ; 
"  I  copied  the  theme  out."  Even  after  the  lapse  of  twenty 
years  I  turn  hot  all  over  when  I  recall  the  sensations  of  that 
moment. 


XXX. 

THE  ART  OF  PUTTING  THINGS. 

TT  was  "A.  K.  H.  B.,"  if  I  recollect  aright,  who  wrote 
■*-  a  popular  essay  on  "The  Art  of  Putting  Things."  As 
I  know  nothing  of  the  essay  beyond  its  title,  and  am  not 
quite  certain  about  that,  I  shall  not  be  guilty  of  intentional 
plagiarism  if  I  attempt  to  discuss  the  same  subject.  It  is 
not  identical  with  the  theme  which  I  have  just  handled,  for 
"Things  one  would  rather  have  expressed  differently "  are 
essentially  things  which  one  might  have  expressed  better. 
If  one  is  not  conscious  of  this  at  the  moment,  a  good-natured 
friend  is  always  at  hand  to  point  it  out,  and  the  poignancy 
of  one's  regret  creates  the  zest  of  the  situation.  For  example, 
when  a  German  financier,  contesting  an  English  borough, 
drove  over  an  old  woman  on  the  polling-day,  and  affection- 
ately pressed  five  shillings  into  her  hand,  saying,  "Never 
mind,  my  tear,  here's  something  to  get  drunk  with,"  his 
agent  instantly  pointed  out  that  she  wore  the  Blue  Ribbon, 
and  that  her  husband  was  an  influential  class-leader  among 
the  Wesleyans. 

But  "  The  Art  of  Putting  Things  "  includes  also  the  things 
which  one  might  have  expressed  worse,  and  covers  the  cases 
where  a  dexterous  choice  of  words  seems,  at  any  rate  to  the 
speaker,  to  have  extricated  him  from  a  conversational  quan- 
dary. As  an  instance  of  this  perilous  art  carried  to  high 
perfection,  may  be  cited  Abraham  Lincoln's  judgment  on  an 
unreadably  sentimental  book — "  People  who  like  this  sort  of 


296     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

thing  will  find  this  the  sort  of  thing  they  like" — humbly 
imitated  by  two  eminent  men  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic, 
one  of  whom  is  in  the  habit  of  writing  to  struggling  authors 
— "  Thank  you  for  sending  me  your  book,  which  I  shall  lose 
no  time  in  reading ; "  while  the  other  prefers  the  less  truthful 
but  perhaps  more  flattering  formula — "  I  have  read  your  blank 
verse,  and  much  like  it." 

The  late  Mr.  Walter  Pater  was  once  invited  to  admire  a 
hideous  wedding-present,  compact  of  ormolu  and  malachite. 
Closing  his  eyes,  the  founder  of  modern  aesthetics  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  and  waving  away  the  offending  object, 
murmured  in  his  softest  tone,  "  Oh,  very  rich,  very  hand- 
some, very  expensive,  I  am  sure.  But  they  mustn't  make 
any  more  of  them." 

Dexterities  of  phrase  sometimes  recoil  with  dire  effect 
upon  their  author.  A  very  popular  clergyman  of  my  ac- 
quaintance prides  himself  on  never  forgetting  an  inhabitant 
of  his  parish.  He  was  stopped  one  day  in  the  street  by  an 
aggrieved  parishioner  whom,  to  use  a  homely  phrase,  he  did 
not  know  from  Adam.  Ready  in  resource,  he  produced  his 
pocket-book,  and,  hastily  jotting  down  a  memorandum  of 
the  parishioner's  grievance,  he  said,  with  an  insinuating 
smile,  "  It  is  so  stupid  of  me,  but  I  always  forget  how  to 
spell  your  name,"  "J— O — N — E — S,"  was  the  gruff"  re- 
sponse ;  and  the  shepherd  and  the  sheep  went  their  several 
ways  in  mutual  disgust.  Perhaps  the  worst  recorded  attempt 
at  an  escape  from  a  conversational  difficulty  was  made  by  an 
East-end  curate  who  specially  cultivated  the  friendship  of 
the  artisans.  One  day  a  carpenter  arrived  in  his  room,  and, 
producing  a  photograph,  said,  "  I've  brought  you  my  boy's 
likeness,  as  you  said  you'd  like  to  have  it." 

Curate  (rapturously).  "  How  awfully  good  of  you  to  re- 
member !     What  a  capital  likeness  !     Where  is  he  ?  " 

Carpenter.     "Why,    sir,    don't    you    remember?      He 
dead." 


\ 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      297 

Curate.  "  Oh  yes,  of  course,  I  know  that.  I  mean, 
where's  the  man  that  took  the  photograph  ?  " 

The  art  of  disguising  an  unpleasant  truth  with  a  graceful 
phrase  was  well  illustrated  in  the  case  of  a  friend  of  mine, 
not  remarkable  for  physical  courage,  of  whom  a  tactful 
phrenologist  pronounced  that  he  was  "  full  of  precaution 
against  real  or  imaginary  danger."  It  is  not  every  one  who 
can  tell  a  man  he  is  an  arrant  coward  without  offending  him. 
The  same  art,  as  applied  by  a-  man  to  his  own  shortcomings, 
is  exemplified  in  the  story  of  the  ecclesiastical  dignitary  who 
gloried  in  his  Presence  of  Mind.  According  to  Dean  Stanley, 
who  knew  him  well,  he  used  to  narrate  the  incident  in  the 
following  terms  : — 

"  A  friend  invited  me  to  go  out  with  him  on  the  water. 
The  sky  was  threatening,  and  I  declined.  At  length  he 
succeeded  in  persuading  me,  and  we  embarked.  A  squall 
came  on,  the  boat  lurched,  and  my  friend  fell  overboard. 
Twice  he  sank,  and  twice  he  rose  to  the  surface.  He  placed 
his  hands  on  the  prow  and  endeavoured  to  climb  in. 
There  was  great  apprehension  lest  he  should  upset  the  boat. 
Providentially,  I  had  brought  my  umbrella  with  me.  I  had 
the  presence  of  mind  to  strike  him  two  or  three  hard  blows 
over  the  knuckles.  He  let  go  his  hold  and  sank.  The  boat 
righted  itself,  and  we  were  saved." 

The  art  of  avoiding  conversational  unpleasantness  by  a 
graceful  way  of  putting  things  belongs,  I  suppose,  in  its 
highest  perfection,  to  the  East.  When  Lord  Dufferin  was 
Viceroy  of  India,  he  had  a  "shikarry,"  or  sporting  servant, 
whose  special  duty  was  to  attend  the  visitors  at  the  Vice- 
regal Court  on  their  shooting  excursions.  Returning  one 
day  from  one  of  these  expeditions,  the  shikarry  encountered 
the  Viceroy,  who,  full  of  courteous  solicitude  for  his  guests' 

enjoyment,  asked  :  *'  Well,  what  sort  of  sport  has  Lord 

had  ?  "  "  Oh,"  replied  the  scrupulously  polite  Indian,  "  the 
young  Sahib  shot  divinely,  but  God  was  very  merciful  to  the 


298     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

birds."  Compare  this  honeyed  speech  with  the  terms  in 
which  an  English  gamekeeper  would  convey  his  opinion  of  a 
bad  shot,  and  we  are  forced  to  admit  the  social  superiority 
of  Lord  Salisbury's  "  black  man." 

If  we  turn  from  the  Orient  to  the  Occident,  and  from  our 
dependencies  to  the  United  Kingdom,  the  Art  of  Putting 
Things  is  found  to  flourish  better  on  Irish  than  on  Scotch 
or  English  soil.  We  all  remember  that  Archbishop  Whately 
is  said  to  have  thanked  God  on  his  deathbed  that  he  had 
never  given  a  penny  in  indiscriminate  charity.  Perhaps 
one  might  find  more  suitable  subjects  of  moribund  self- 
congratulation  ;  and  I  have  always  rejoiced  in  the  mental 
picture  of  the  Archbishop,  in  all  the  frigid  pomp  of  Political 
Economy,  waving  off  the  Dublin  beggar  with  *'  Go  away, 
go  away ;  I  never  give  to  any  one  in  the  street,"  and  receiv- 
ing the  instantaneous  rejoinder,  "  Then  where  would  your 
reverence  have  me  wait  on  you  ?  "  A  lady  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, who  is  a  proprietress  in  County  Galway,  is  in  the  habit 
of  receiving  her  own  rents.  One  day,  when  a  tenant-farmer 
had  pleaded  long  and  unsuccessfully  for  an  abatement,  he 
exclaimed  as  he  handed  over  his  money,  "  Well,  my  lady,  all 
I  can  say  is  that  if  I  had  my  time  over  again  it's  not  a 
tenant-farmer  I'd  be.  I'd  follow  one  of  the  learn'd  profes- 
sions." The  proprietress  gently  replied  that  even  in  the 
learned  professions  there  were  losses  as  well  as  gains,  and 
perhaps  he  would  have  found  professional  life  as  precari- 
ous as  farming.  "  Ah,  my  lady,  how  can  that  be  then  ? " 
replied  the  son  of  St.  Patrick.  "If  you're  a  lawyer — win 
or  lose,  you're  paid.  If  you're  a  doctor — kill  or  cure, 
you're  paid.  If  you're  a  priest — heaven  or  hell,  you're 
paid."  Who  can  imagine  an  English  farmer  pleading  the 
case  for  an  abatement  with  this  happy  mixture  of  fun  and 
satire  ? 

"  Urbane "  is  a  word  which  etymologically  bears  witness 
that  the  ancient  world  believed  the  arts  of  courtesy  to  be  tne 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      299 

products  of  the  town  rather  than  of  the  country.  Something 
of  the  same  distinction  may  occasionally  be  traced  even  in 
the  civilization  of  modern  England.  The  house-surgeon  of 
a  London  hospital  wsls  attending  to  the  injuries  of  a  poor 
woman  whose  arm  had  been  severely  bitten.  As  he  was 
dressing  the  wound  he  said,  "  I  cannot  make  out  what  sort 
of  animal  bit  you.  This  is  too  small  for  a  horse's  bite,  and 
too  large  for  a  dog's."  "O  sir,"  replied  the  patient,  "it 
wasn't  an  animal ;  it  was  another  lydy."  Surely  the  force  of 
Urbanity  could  no  further  go.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  a 
country  clergyman  who,  in  view  of  the  approaching  Con- 
firmation, announced  that  on  the  morning  of  the  ceremony 
the  young  ladies  would  assemble  at  the  Vicarage  and  the 
young  women  at  the  National  School. 

"  Let  us  distinguish,"  said  the  philosopher,  and  certainly 
the  arbitrary  use  of  the  term  "  lady "  and  "  gentleman " 
suggests  some  curious  studies  in  the  Art  of  Putting  Things. 
A  good  woman  who  let  furnished  apartments  in  a  country 
town,  describing  a  lodger  who  had  apparently  "  known  better 
days,"  said,  "  I  am  positive  she  was  a  real  born  lady,  for  she 
hadn't  the  least  idea  how  to  do  hanything  for  herself;  it  took 
her  hours  to  peel  her  potatoes."  Carlyle  has  illustrated  from 
the  annals  of  our  criminal  jurisprudence  the  truly  British 
conception  of  "  a  very  respectable  man  "  as  one  who  keeps  a 
gig  ;  and  similarly,  I  recollect  that  in  the  famous  trial  of  Kurr 
and  Benson,  the  turf-swindlers,  twenty  years  ago,  a  witness 
testified,  with  reference  to  one  of  the  prisoners,  that  he  had 
always  considered  him  a  "perfect  gentleman;"  and,  being 
pressed  by  counsel  to  give  his  reasons  for  this  view,  said, 
"  He  had  rooms  at  the  Langham  Hotel,  and  dined  with  the 
Lord  Mayor." 

On  the  other  hand,  it  would  seem  that  in  certain  circles 
and  contingencies  the  "  grand  old  name  of  Gentleman  "  is 
regarded  as  a  term  of  opprobrium.  The  late  Lord  Wriothes- 
ley  Russell,  who  was  for  many  years  a  Canon  of  Windsor, 


300     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

used  to  conduct  a  mission  service  for  the  Household  troops 
quartered  there ;  and  one  of  his  converts,  a  stalwart  trooper 
of  the  Blues,  expressing  his  gratitude  for  these  voluntary 
ministrations,  and  contrasting  them  with  the  officer-like  and 
disciplinary  methods  of  the  army  chaplains,  genially  ex- 
claimed, "  But  I  always  say  there's  not  a  bit  of  the  gentle- 
man about  you,  my  lord."  When  Dr.  Harold  Browne 
became  Bishop  of  Ely,  he  asked  the  head  verger  some 
questions  as  to  where  his  predecessor  had  been  accustomed 
to  sit  in  the  Cathedral,  what  part  he  had  taken  in  the 
services,  and  so  on.  The  verger  proved  quite  unable  to 
supply  the  required  information,  and  said  in  self-excuse, 
"Well,  you  see,  my  lord,  his  late  lordship  wasn't  at  all  a 
church-going  gentleman;"  which,  being  interpreted,  meant 
that,  on  account  of  age  and  infirmities,  Bishop  Turton  had 
long  confined  his  ministrations  to  his  private  chapel. 

Just  after  a  change  of  Government  not  many  years  ago, 
an  officer  of  the  Royal  Household  was  chatting  with  one  of 
the  Queen's  old  coachmen  (whose  name  and  location  I,  for 
obvious  reasons,  forbear  to  indicate).  "  Well,  Whipcord, 
have  you  seen  your  new  Master  of  the  Horse  yet  ?  "  "  Yes, 
sir,  I  have ;  and  I  should  say  that  his  lordship  is  more  of  an 
indoors  man."  The  phrase  has  a  touch  of  genial  contempt 
for  a  long-descended  but  effete  aristocracy  which  tickles  the 
democratic  palate.  It  was  not  old  Whipcord,  but  a  brother 
in  the  craft,  who,  when  asked,  during  the  Jubilee  of  1887,  if 
he  was  driving  any  of  the  Imperial  and  Royal  guests  then 
quartered  at  Buckingham  Palace,  replied,  with  calm  self- 
respect,  "  No,  sir ;  I  am  the  Queen's  Coachman.  I  don't 
drive  the  riff-raff."  I  take  this  to  be  a  sublime  instance  of  the 
Art  of  Putting  Things.  Lingering  for  a  moment  on  these 
back  stairs  of  History,  let  me  tell  the  tragic  tale  of  Mr.  and 

Mrs.  M .     Mr.  M was  one  of  the  merchant  princes 

of  London,  and  Mrs.  M had  occasion  to  engage  a  new 

housekeeper  for  their  palace  in  Park  Lane.     The  outgoing 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      301 

official  wrote  to  her  incoming  successor  a  detailed  account  of 
the  house  and  its  inmates.  The  butler  was  a  very  pleasant 
man.  The  chef  was  inclined  to  tipple.  The  lady's-maid 
gave  herself  airs ;  and  the  head  housemaid  was  a  very  well 
principled  young  woman — and  so  on  and  so  forth.  After 
the  signature,  huddled  away  in  a  casual  postscript,  came  the 

damning   sentence,    "  As   for    Mr.  and   Mrs.    M ,   they 

behave  as  well  as  they  know  how."  Was  it  by  inadver- 
tence, or  from  a  desire  to  let  people  know  their  proper  place, 
that  the  recipient  of  this  letter  allowed  its  contents  to  find 
their  way  to  the  children  of  the  family  ? 

As  incidentally  indicated  above,  a  free  recourse  to  alco- 
holic stimulus  used  to  be,  in  less  temperate  days,  closely 
associated  with  the  culinary  art ;  and  one  of  the  best  cooks 
I  ever  knew  was  urged  by  her  mistress  to  attend  a  great 
meeting  for  the  propagation  of  the  Blue  Ribbon,  to  be  held 
not  a  hundred  miles  from  Southampton,  and  addressed  by  a 
famous  preacher  of  total  abstinence.  The  meeting  was  en- 
thusiastic, and  the  Blue  Ribbon  was  freely  distributed.  Next 
morning  the  lady  anxiously  asked  her  cook  what  effect  the 
oratory  had  produced  on  her,  and  she  replied,  with  the  evi- 
dent sense  of  narrow  escape  from  imminent  danger,  "  Well, 

my  lady,  if  Mr. had  gone  on  for  five  minutes  more,  I 

believe  I  should  have  taken  the  Ribbon  too;  but,  thank 
goodness  !  he  stopped  in  time." 

So  far,  I  find,  I  have  chiefly  dealt  with  the  Art  of  Putting 
Things  as  practised  by  the  "  urbane  "  or  town-bred  classes. 
Let  me  give  a  few  instances  of  "  pagan  "  or  countrified  use. 
A  village  blacksmith  was  describing  to  me  with  unaffected 
pathos  the  sudden  death  of  his  very  aged  father ;  "  and,"  he 
added,  "  the  worst  part  of  it  was  that  I  had  to  go  and  break  it 
to  my  poor  old  mother."  Genuinely  entering  into  my  friend's 
grief,  I  said,  "  Yes ;  that  must  have  been  terrible.  How  did 
you  break  it  ?  "  "  Well,  I  went  into  her  cottage  and  I  said, 
'Dad's  dead.'     She  said,  'What?'  and  I  said,  'Dad's  dead, 


302      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

and  you  may  as  well  know  it  first  as  last.' "  Breaking 
it!  Truly  a  curious  instance  of  the  rural  Art  of  Putting 
Things. 

A  labourer  in  Buckinghamshire,  being  asked  how  the 
rector  of  the  village  was,  replied,  "  Well,  he's  getting  won- 
derful old ;  but  they  do  tell  me  that  his  understanding's 
no  worse  than  it  always  was" — a  pagan  synonym  for  the 
hackneyed  phrase  that  one  is  in  full  possession  of  one's 
faculties.  This  entire  avoidance  of  flattering  circumlocu- 
tions, though  it  sometimes  produces  these  rather  startling 
effects,  gives  a  peculiar  raciness  to  rustic  oratory.  Not  long 
ago  a  member  for  a  rural  constituency,  who  had  always  pro- 
fessed the  most  democratic  sentiments,  suddenly  astonished 
his  constituents  by  taking  a  peerage.  During  the  election 
caused  by  his  transmigration,  one  of  his  former  supporters 

said  at  a  public  meeting,  "  Mr. says  as  how  he's  going 

to  the  House  of  Lords  to  leaven  it.     I  tell  you,  you  can't 

no  more  leaven  the  House  of  Lords  by  putting  Mr. 

into  it  than  you  can  sweeten  a  cart-load  of  muck  with  a  pot 
of  marmalade."  During  the  General  Election  of  1892  I 
heard  an  old  labourer  on  a  village  green  denouncing  the 
evils  of  an  Established  Church.  "  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is 
with  one  of  these  'ere  State  parsons.  If  you  take  away  his 
book,  he  can't  preach ;  and  if  you  take  away  his  gownd, 
he  mustn't  preach  ;  and  if  you  take  away  his  screw,  he'll 

be  d d  if  he'll  preach."     The  humour  which  underlies 

the  roughness  of  countrified  speech  is  often  not  only 
genuine  but  subtle.  I  have  heard  a  story  of  a  young 
labourer  who,  on  his  way  to  his  day's  work,  called  at  the 
registrar's  office  to  register  his  father's  death.  When  the 
official  asked  the  date  of  the  event,  the  son  replied,  "  He 
ain't  dead  yet,  but  he'll  be  dead  before  night,  so  I  thought 
it  would  save  me  another  journey  if  you  would  put  it  down 
now."  "  Oh,  that  won't  do  at  all,"  said  the  registrar , 
"perhaps  your  father  will    live  till   to-morrow."    "Well,   I 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      303 

don't  know,  sir ;  the  doctor  says  as  he  won't,  and  he  knows 
what  he  has  given  him." 

The  accompHshed  authoress  of  Country  Conversations 
has  put  on  record  some  delightful  specimens  of  rural 
dialogue,  culled  chiefly  from  the  labouring  classes  of 
Cheshire.  And,  rising  in  the  social  scale  from  the  labourer 
to  the  farmer,  what  could  be  more  lifelike  than  this  tale 
of  an  ill-starred  wooing  ?  "  My  son  Tom  has  met  with  a 
disappointment  about  getting  married.     You  know  he's  got 

that  nice  farm  at  H ;  so  he  met  a  young  lady  at  a  dance, 

and  he  was  very  much  took  up,  and  she  seemed  quite  agree- 
able. So,  as  he  heard  she  had  Five  Hundred,  he  wrote  next 
day  to  purshue  the  acquaintance,  and  her  father  wrote  and 
asked  Tom  to  come  over  to  S .  Eh,  dear !  Poor  fel- 
low !  He  went  off  in  such  sperrits,  and  he  looked  so  spruce 
in  his  best  clothes,  with  a  new  tie  and  all.  So  next  day, 
when  I  heard  him  come  to  the  gate,  I  ran  out  as  pleased 
as  could  be;  but  I  see  in  a  moment  he  was  sadly  cast 
down.  '  Why,  Tom,  my  lad,'  says  I,  '  what  is  it  ? '  '  Why, 
mother,'  says  he,  '  she'd  understood  mine  was  a  harable ; 
and  she  will  not  marry  to  a  dairy. ^ " 

From  Cheshire  to  East  Anglia  is  a  far  cry,  but  let  me 
give  one  more  lesson  in  the  Art  of  Putting  Things,  derived 
from  that  delightful  writer  Dr.  Jessopp.  In  one  of  his 
studies  of  rural  life  the  Doctor  tells,  in  his  own  inimitable 
style,  a  story  of  which  the  moral  is  the  necessity  of  using 
plain  words  when  you  are  preaching  to  the  poor.  The  story 
runs  that  in  the  parish  where  he  served  his  first  curacy  there 
was  an  old  farmer  on  whom  had  fallen  all  the  troubles  of 
Job — loss  of  stock,  loss  of  capital,  eviction  from  his  hold- 
ing, the  death  of  his  wife,  and  the  failure  of  his  own  health. 
The  well-meaning  young  curate,  though  full  of  compassion, 
could  find  no  more  novel  topic  of  consolation  than  to  say 
that  all  these  trials  were  the  dispensations  of  Providence. 
On  this  the  poor  old  victim   brightened  up  and  said  with 


304     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

a  cheerful  smile,  "  Ah  yes,  sir  ;  I  know  that  right  enough. 
That  old  Providence  has  been  against  me  all  along;  but 
I  reckon  there^s  One  above  that  will  put  a  stopper  on  him 
if  he  goes  too  far."  Evidently,  as  Dr.  Jessopp  observes, 
*'  Providence  "  was  to  the  good  old  man  a  learned  synonym 
for  the  devil. 


XXXL 

CHILDREN. 

nPHE  humours  of  childhood  include  in  rich  abundance 
-*-  both  Things  which  would  have  been  better  left 
unsaid,  and  Things  which  might  have  been  expressed 
differently.  But  just  now  they  lack  their  sacred  bard. 
There  is  no  one  to  observe  and  chronicle  them.  It  is  a 
pity,  for  the  "heart  that  watches  and  receives"  will  often 
find  in  the  pleasantries  of  childhood  a  good  deal  that 
deserves  perpetuation. 

The  children  of  fiction  are  a  mixed  company,  some  life- 
like and  some  eminently  the  reverse.  In  Joan  Miss  Rhoda 
Broughton  drew  with  unequalled  skill  a  family  of  odious 
children.  Henry  Kingsley  took  a  more  genial  view  of  his 
subject,  and  sketched  some  pleasant  children  in  Austin 
Elliot^  and  some  delightful  ones  in  the  last  chapter  of 
Ravenshoe.  The  "Last  of  the  Neros"  in  Bar  Chester  Towers 
is  admirably  drawn,  and  all  elderly  bachelors  must  have 
sympathized  with  good  Mr.  Thome  when,  by  way  of  making 
himself  agreeable  to  the  mother,  Signora  Vesey-Neroni,  he 
took  the  child  upon  his  knee,  jumped  her  up  and  down, 
saying,  "  Diddle,  diddle,  diddle,"  and  was  rewarded  with,  "  I 
don't  want  to  be  diddle-diddle-diddled.  Let  me  go,  you 
naughty  old  man."  Dickens's  children  are  by  common 
consent  intolerable,  but  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  we 
were  all  thrilled  by  Miss  Montgomery's  Misunderstood.  It 
is  credibly    reported   that   an  earlier  and  more  susceptible 


3o6      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

generation  was  moved  to  tears  by  the  sinfulness  of  Topsy 
and  the  saintUness  of  Eva ;  and  the  adventures  of  the  Fair- 
child  Family  enjoy  a  deserved  popularity  among  all  lovers  of 
unintentional  humour.  But  the  "  sacred  bard  "  of  child-life 
was  John  Leech,  whose  twofold  skill  immortalized  it  with 
pen  and  with  pencil.  The  childish  incidents  and  sayings 
which  Leech  illustrated  were,  I  believe,  always  taken  from 
real  life.  His  sisters  "kept  an  establishment,"  as  Mr. 
Dombey  said — the  very  duplicate  of  that  to  which  little 
Paul  was  sent.  " '  It  is  not  a  Preparatory  School  by  any 
means.  Should  I  express  my  meaning,'  said  Miss  Tox  with 
peculiar  sweetness,  '  if  I  designated  it  an  infantine  boarding- 
house  of  a  very  select  description  ? '       • 

" '  On  an  exceedingly  limited  and  particular  scale,'  sug- 
gested Mrs.  Chick,  with  a  glance  at  her  brother, 

"  '  Oh  !  exclusion  itself,'  said  Miss  Tox." 

The  analogy  may  be  even  more  closely  pressed,  for,  as  at 
Mrs.  Pipchin's  so  at  Miss  Leech's,  "juvenile  nobility  itself 
was  no  stranger  to  the  establishment."  Miss  Tox  told  Mr. 
Dombey  that  "  the  humble  individual  who  now  addressed 
him  was  once  under  Mrs.  Pipchin's  charge ; "  and,  similarly, 
the  obscure  writer  of  these  papers  was  once  under  Miss 
Leech's.  Her  school  supplied  the  originals  of  all  the  little 
boys,  whether  greedy  or  gracious,  grave  or  gay,  on  foot  or 
on  pony-back,  in  knickerbockers  or  in  nightshirts,  who  figure 
so  frequently  in  Punch  between  1850  and  1864;  and  one  of 
the  pleasantest  recollections  of  those  distant  days  is  the 
kindness  with  which  the  great  artist  used  to  receive  us  when, 
as  the  supreme  reward  of  exceptionally  good  conduct,  we 
were  taken  to  see  him  in  his  studio  at  Kensington.  It  is  my 
rule  not  to  quote  at  length  from  what  is  readily  accessible, 
and  therefore  I  cull  only  one  delightful  episode  from  Leech's 
Sketches  of  Life  and  Character.  Two  little  chaps  are  dis- 
cussing the  age  of  a  third,  and  the  one  reflectively  remarks, 
*'  Well,  I  don't  'zactly  know  how  old  Charlie  is ;  but  he  must 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      307 

be  very  old,  for  he  blows  his  own  nose."  Happy  and  far 
distant  days,  when  such  an  accomplishment  seemed  to  be 
characteristic  of  a  remotely  future  age !  "  Mamma,"  in- 
quired an  infant  aristocrat  of  a  superlatively  refined  mother, 
"  when  shall  I  be  old  enough  to  eat  bread  and  cheese  with  a 
knife,  and  put  the  knife  in  my  mouth  ?  "  But  the  answer  is 
not  recorded. 

The  vagueness  of  the  young  with  respect  to  the  age  of 
their  elders  is  pleasingly  illustrated  by  the  early  history  of  a 
nobleman  who  recently  represented  a  division  of  Manchester 
in  Parliament.  His  mother  had  a  maid,  who  seemed  to 
childish  eyes  extremely  old.  The  children  of  the  family 
longed  to  know  her  age,  but  were  much  too  well-bred  to 
ask  a  question  which  they  felt  would  be  painful ;  so  they 
sought  to  attain  the  desired  end  by  a  system  of  ingenious 
traps.  The  future  Member  for  Manchester  chanced  in  a 
lucky  hour  to  find  in  his  "Book  of  Useful  Knowledge"  the 
tradition  that  the  aloe  flowers  only  once  in  a  hundred  years. 
He  instantly  saw  his  opportunity,  and  accosting  the  maid 
with  winning  air  and  wheedling  accent,  asked  insinuatingly, 
"Dunn,  have  you  often  seen  the  aloe  flower?" 

The  Enfant  Terrible,  though  his  name  is  imported  from 
France,  is  an  indigenous  growth  of  English  soil.  A  young 
husband  and  wife  of  my  acquaintance  were  conversing  in  the 
comfortable  beHef  that  "Tommy  didn't  understand,"  when 
Tommy  looked  up  from  his  toys,  and  said  reprovingly, 
"  Mamma,  oughtn't  you  to  have  said  that  in  French  ?  " 

The  late  Lord ,  who  had  a  deformed  foot,  was  going 

to  visit  Queen  Victoria  at  Osborne,  and  before  his  arrival  the 
Queen  and  Prince  Albert  debated  whether  it  would  be  better 
to  warn  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Princess  Royal  of  his 
physical  peculiarity,  so  as  to  avoid  embarrassing  remarks,  or 
,to  leave  it  to  their  own  good  feeling.     The  latter  course  was 

adopted.      Lord  duly  arrived.     The  foot  elicited  no 

remarks  from  the  Royal '  children,  and  the  visit  passed  off 


3o8     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

anxiously  but  with  success.     Next  day  the  Princess  Royal 

asked  the  Queen,  "Where  is  Lord ?"     "He  has  gone 

back  to  London,  dear."  "Oh!  what  a  pity!  He  had  prom- 
ised to  show  Bertie  and  me  his  foot ! "  They  had  caught 
him  in  the  corridor  and  made  their  own  terms  with  their 
captive. 

In  more  recent  years  the  Uttle  daughter  of  one  of  the 
Queen's  most  confidential  advisers  had  the  unexampled 
honour  of  being  invited  to  luncheon  with  her  Majesty. 
During  the  meal,  an  Illustrious  Lady,  negotiating  a  pigeon 
after  the  German  fashion,  took  up  one  of  its  bones  with  her 
finger  and  thumb.  The  little  visitor,  whose  sense  of  British 
propriety  was  stronger  than  her  awe  of  Courts,  regarded  the 
proceeding  with  wonder-dilated  eyes,  and  then  burst  out, 
"Oh,  Piggy-wiggy,  Piggy-wiggy!  You  are  Piggy-wiggy." 
Probably  she  is  now  languishing  in  the  dungeon  keep  of 
Windsor  Castle. 

If  the  essence  of  the  Enfant  Terrible  is  that  he  or  she 
causes  profound  embarrassment  to  the  surrounding  adults, 
the  palm  of  pre-eminence  must  be  assigned  to  the  children 
of  a  famous  diplomatist,  who,  some  twenty  years  ago,  or- 
ganized a  charade  and  performed  it  without  assistance  from 
their  elders.  The  scene  displayed  a  Crusader  knight  return- 
ing from  the  wars  to  his  ancestral  castle.  At  the  castle  gate 
he  was  welcomed  by  his  beautiful  and  rejoicing  wife,  to 
whom,  after  tender  salutations,  he  recounted  his  triumphs  on 
the  tented  field  and  the  number  of  paynim  whom  he  had 
slain.  "  And  I  too,  my  lord,"  replied  his  wife,  pointing  with 
conscious  pride  to  a  long  roll  of  dolls  of  various  sizes — 
"and  I  too,  my  lord,  have  not  been  idle."  Tableau 
indeed ! 

The  argumentative  child  is  scarcely  less  trying  than  the 
Enfant  Terrible.  Miss  Sellon,  the  foundress  of  English 
sisterhoods,  adopted  and  brought  up  in  her  convent  at 
Devonport  a  little  Irish  waif  who  had  been  made  an  orphan 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      309 

by  the  outbreak  of  cholera  in  1 849.  The  infant's  customs 
and  manners,  especially  at  table,  were  a  perpetual  trial  to  a 
community  of  refined  old  maids.  "  Chew  your  food,  Aileen," 
said  Miss  Sellon.  "  If  you  please,  mother,  the  whale  didn't 
chew  Jonah,"  was  the  prompt  reply  of  the  little  Romanist, 
who  had  been  taught  that  the  examples  of  Holy  Writ  were 
for  our  imitation.  Answers  made  in  examinations  I  forbear, 
as  a  rule,  to  quote,  but  one  I  must  give,  because  it  so  beau- 
tifully illustrates  the  value  of  ecclesiastical  observances  in  our 
elementary  schools  :  — 

Vicar.  "  Now,  my  dear,  do  you  know  what  happened  on 
Ascension  Day?" 

Child.   "  Yes,  sir,  please.     We  had  buns  and  a  swing." 

Natural  childhood  should  know  nothing  of  social  forms, 
and  the  coachman's  son  who  described  his  father's  master  as 
"the  man  that  rides  in  dad's  carriage,"  showed  a  finely  de- 
mocratic instinct.  But  the  boastful  child  is  a  very  unpleasant 
product  of  nature  or  of  art.  "  We've  got  a  private  master 
comes  to  teach  us  at  home,  but  we  ain't  proud,  because  Ma 
says  it's  sinful,"  quoth  Morleena  Kenwigs,  under  her  mother's 
instructions,  when  Nicholas  Nickleby  gave  her  French  lessons. 
The  infant  daughter  of  a  country  clergyman,  drinking  tea  in 
the  nursery  of  the  episcopal  Palace,  boasted  that  at  the 
Vicarage  they  had  a  hen  which  laid  an  egg  every  day.  "  Oh, 
that's  nothing,"  retorted  the  bishop's  daughter  ;  "  Papa  lays 
a  foundation-stone  every  week." 

The  precocious  child,  even  when  thoroughly  well-meaning, 
is  a  source  of  terror  by  virtue  of  its  intense  earnestness.  In 
the  days  when  Maurice  first  discredited  the  doctrine  of 
Eternal  Punishment,  some  learned  and  theological  people 
were  discussing,  in  a  country  house  near  Oxford,  the  abstract 
credibility  of  endless  pain.  Suddenly  the  child  of  the  house 
(now  its  owner),  who  was  playing  on  the  hearth-rug,  looked 
up  and  said,  "  But  how  am  I  to  know  that  it  isn't  hell  already, 
and  that  I  am  not  in  it?" — a  question  which  threw  a  lurid 


310      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

light  on  his  educational  and  disciplinary  experiences.  Some 
of  my  readers  will  probably  recollect  the  "Japanese  Village" 
at  Knightsbridge — a  pretty  show  of  Oriental  wares  which  was 
burnt  down,  just  at  the  height  of  its  popularity,  a  few  years 
ago.  On  the  day  of  its  destruction  I  was  at  the  house  of  a 
famous  financier,  whose  children  had  been  to  see  the  show 
only  two  days  before.  One  of  them,  an  urchin  of  eight, 
immensely  interested  by  the  news  of  the  fire,  asked,  not  if 
the  pretty  things  were  burnt  or  the  people  hurt,  but  this  one 
question,  "Mamma,  was  it  insured?"  Verily,  bon  chat 
chasse  de  race.  The  children  of  an  excellent  but  unfortunate 
judge  are  said  to  have  rushed  one  day  into  their  mother's 
drawing-room  exclaiming,  "  Dear  Mamma,  may  we  have  jam 
for  tea  ?  One  of  Papa's  judgments  has  been  upheld  in  the 
Court  of  Appeal."  An  admirable  story  of  commercial  pre- 
cocity reaches  me  from  one  of  the  many  correspondents  who 
have  been  good  enough  to  write  to  me  in  connection  with 
this  book.  It  may  be  commended  to  the  promoters  of  that 
class  of  company  which  is  specially  affected  by  the  widow, 
the  orphan,  and  the  curate.  Two  small  boys,  walking  down 
Tottenham  Court  Road,  passed  a  tobacconist's  shop.  The 
bigger  remarked,  "  I  say,  Bill,  I've  got  a  ha'penny,  and,  if 
you've  got  one  too,  we'll  have  a  penny  smoke  between  us." 
Bill  produced  his  copper,  and  Tommy  diving  into  the  shop, 
promptly  reappeared  with  a  penny  cigar  in  his  mouth.  The 
boys  walked  side  by  side  for  a  few  minutes,  when  the  smaller 
mildly  said,  "  I  say,  Tom,  when  am  I  to  have  a  puff?  The 
weed's  half  mine."  "  Oh,  you  shut  up,"  was  the  business- 
like reply.  "  I'm  the  Chairman  of  this  Company,  and  you 
are  only  a  shareholder.      You  can  spit." 

Mr.  H.  J.  Barker,  who  is,  I  believe,  what  Mr.  Squeers 
called  "A  Educator  of  Youth,"  has  lately  given  us  some 
pleasant  echoes  from  the  Board  School.  A  young  moralist 
recorded  his  judgment,  that  it  is  not  cruel  to  kill  a  turkey, 
"  if  only  you  take  it  into  the  backyard  and  use  a  sharp  knife, 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      311 

and  the  turkey  is  yours  !  "  Another  dogmatized  thus :  "  Don't 
teese  cats,  for  firstly,  it  is  wrong  so  to  do ;  and  2nd,  cats 
have  clawses  which  is  longer  than  people  think."  The  fol- 
lowing theory  of  the  Bank  Holiday  would  scarcely  commend 
itself  to  that  sound  economist  Sir  John  Lubbock  : — "  The 
Banks  shut  up  shop,  so  as  people  can't  put  their  money  in, 
but  has  to  spend  it. "  So  far  the  rude  male  :  it  required  the 
genius  of  feminine  delicacy  to  define  a  Civil  War  as  "one  in 
which  the  military  are  unnecessarily  and  punctiliously  civil 
or  polite,  often  raising  their  helmets  to  each  other  before 
engaging  in  deadly  combat." 

The  joys  of  childhood  are  a  theme  on  which  a  good  deal 
of  verse  has  been  expended.  I  am  far  from  denying  that 
they  are  real,  but  I  contend  that  they  commonly  take  a  form 
which  is  quite  inconsistent  with  poetry,  and  that  the  poet 
(like  heaven)  "  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy."  "  I  wish  every 
day  in  the  year  was  a  pot  of  jam,"  was  the  obviously  sincere 
exclamation  of  a  fat  little  boy  whom  I  knew,  and  whom  Leech 
would  have  delighted  to  draw.  Two  little  London  girls  who 
had  been  sent  by  the  kindness  of  the  vicar's  wife  to  have  "a 
happy  day  in  the  country,"  narrating  their  experiences  on 
their  return,  said,  "  Oh  yes,  mum,  we  did  'ave  a  'appy  day. 
We  saw  two  pigs  killed  and  a  gentleman  buried."  And  the 
little  boy  who  was  asked  if  he  thought  he  should  like  a  hymn- 
book  for  his  birthday  present  replied  that  "he  thought  he 
should  like  a  hymn-book,  but  he  knew  he  should  like  a 
squirt."  A  small  cousin  of  mine,  hearing  his  big  brothers 
describe  their  experiences  at  a  Public  School,  observed  with 
unction,  "  If  ever  I  have  a  fag  of  my  own,  I  will  stick  pins 
into  him."  But  now  we  are  leaving  childhood  behind,  and 
attaining  to  the  riper  joys  of  full-blooded  boyhood. 

"  O  running  stream  of  sparkling  joy 
To  be  a  soaring  human  boy  !  ' 

exclaimed  Mr.  Chadband  in  a  moment  of  inspiration.     "  In 


312      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

the  strictest  sense  a  boy,"  was  Mr.  Gladstone's  expressive 
phrase  in  his  controversy  with  Colonel  Dopping.  For  my 
own  part,  I  confess  to  a  frank  dislike  of  boys.  I  dislike 
them  equally  whether  they  are  priggish  boys,  like  Kenelm 
Chillingly,  who  asked  his  mother  if  she  was  never  over- 
powered by  a  sense  of  her  own  identity ;  or  sentimental 
boys,  like  Dibbins  in  Basi7  the  Schoolboy^  who,  discussing 
with  a  friend  how  to  spend  a  whole  holiday,  said,  "  Let  us 
go  to  Dingley  Dell  and  talk  about  Byron ; "  or  manly  boys 
like  Tom  TuUiver,  of  whom  it  is  excellently  said  that  he 
was  the  kind  of  boy  who  is  commonly  spoken  of  as  being 
very  fond  of  animals — that  is,  very  fond  of  throwing  stones 
at  them. 

Whatever  its  type, 

"  I've  seemed  of  late 
To  shrink  from  happy  boyhood — boys 
Have  grown  so  noisy,  and  I  hate 

A  noise. 
They  fright  me  when  the  beech  is  green, 

By  swarming  up  its  stem  for  eggs ; 
They  drive  their  horrid  hoops  between 

My  legs. 
It's  idle  to  repine,  I  know  ; 

I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  instead : 
I'll  drink  my  arrowroot,  and  go 
To  bed." 

But  before  I  do  so  let  me  tell  one  boy-story,  connected 
with  the  Eton  and  Harrow  match,  which  has  always  struck 
me  as  rather  pleasing.  In  the  year  1866,  when  F.  C. 
Cobden,  who  was  afterwards  so  famous  for  his  bowling  in 
the  Cambridge  Eleven,  was  playing  for  Harrow,  an  affable 
father,  by  way  of  making  conversation  for  a  little  Harrow 
boy  at  Lord's,  asked,  "  Is  your  Cobden  any  relation  to 
the  great  Cobden  ?  "  "  Why,  he  is  the  great  Cobden,"  was 
the  simple  and  swift  reply.  This  is  the  true  spirit  of  hero- 
worship. 


XXXII. 

LETTER-WRITING. 

"/^DD  men  write  odd  letters."  This  rather  platitudi- 
^-^  nous  sentence,  from  an  otherwise  excellent  essay 
of  the  late  Bishop  Thorold's,  is  abundantly  illus- 
trated alike  by  my  Collections  and  by  my  Recollections. 
I  plunge  at  random  into  my  subject,  and  immediately  en- 
counter the  following  letter  from  a  Protestant  clergyman  in 
the  north  of  Ireland,  written  in  response  to  a  suggestion 
that  he  might  with  advantage  study  Mr.  Gladstone's  magnifi- 
cent speech  on  the  Second  Reading  of  the  Affirmation  Bill 
in  1883  :— 

"  My  dear  Sir, — I  have  received  your  recommendation  to 
read  carefully  the  speech  of  Mr.  Gladstone  in  favour  of 
admitting  the  infidel  Bradlaugh  into  Parliament.  I  did  so 
when  it  was  delivered,  and  I  must  say  that  the  strength  of 
argument  rests  with  the  opposition.'  I  fully  expect  in  the 
event  of  a  dissolution  the  Government  will  lose  between 
fifty  and  sixty  seats.  Any  conclusion  can  be  arrived  at, 
according  to  the  premises  laid  down.  Mr.  G.  avoided  the 
Scriptural  lines  and  followed  his  own.  All  parties  knew  the 
feeling  of  the  country  on  the  subject,  and,  notwithstanding 
the  bullying  and  majority  of  Gladstone,  he  was  defeated. 
Before  the  Irish  Church  was  robbed,  I  was  nominated  to 
the  Deanery  of  Tuam,  but  Mr.  Disraeli  resigning,  I  was 
defrauded  of  my  just  right  by  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  my  wife, 


314      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Lady ,  the  only  surviving  child  of  an  Earl,  was  sadly 

disappointed ;  but  there  is  a  just  Judge  above.  The  letter 
of  nomination  is  still  in  my  possession.  I  am,  dear  sir, 
yours  faithfully,  ." 

It  is  highly  characteristic  of  Mr.  Gladstone  that,  when 
this  letter  was  shown  to  him  by  its  recipient  as  a  specimen 
of  epistolary  oddity,  he  read  it,  not  with  a  smile,  but  with 
a  portentous  frown,  and,  handing  it  back,  sternly  asked, 
"  What  does  the  fellow  mean  by  quoting  an  engagement 
entered  into  by  my  predecessor  as  binding  on  me  ?  " 

It  is  not  only  clergy  "defrauded"  of  expected  dignities 
that  write  odd  letters.  Young  curates  in  search  of  benefices 
often  seek  to  gratify  their  innocent  ambitions  by  the  most 
ingenious  appeals.  Here  is  a  letter  received  not  many 
years  ago  by  the  Prime  Minister  of  the  day : — 

"  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  your  time  is  fully  occupied. 
I  will  therefore  compress  as  much  as  possible  what  I  wish 
to  say,  and  frame  my  request  in  a  few  words.     Some  time 

ago  my  mother  wrote  to  her  brother.  Lord ,  asking  him 

to  try  and  do  something  for  me  in  the  way  of  obtaining  a 

living.     The  reply  from  Lady was  that  my  uncle  could 

do  nothing  to  help  me.  I  naturally  thought  that  a  Premier 
possessed  of  such  a  plenitude  of  power  as  yourself  would 
find  it  a  matter  of  less  difficulty  to  transform  a  curate  into 
a  rector  or  vicar  than  to  create  a  peer.  My  name  is  in  the 
Chancellor's  List — a  proceeding,  as  far  as  results,  somewhat 
suggestive,  I  fear,  of  the  Greek  Kalends.  .  .  .  My  future 
father-in-law  is  a  member  of  the  City  Liberal  Club,  in  which 
a  large  bust  of  yourself  was  unveiled  last  year.  I  am  31 
years  of  age ;  a  High  Churchman ;  musical,  &c. ;  graduate 

of .     If  I  had  a  living  I  could  marry.  ...  I  am  very 

anxious  to  marry,  but  I  am  very  poor,  and  a  living  would 
help  me  very  much.  Being  a  Southerner,  fond  of  music  and 
of  books,  I  naturally  would  like  to  be  somewhere  near  town. 
I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  help  me  in  this  respect,  and  thus 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      315 

afford  much  happiness  to  more  than  one."  There  is  great 
force  in  that  appeal  to  the  "large  bust." 

Here  is  a  request  which  Bishop  Thorold  received  from  an 
admirer,  who  unfortunately  omitted  to  give  his  address  : — 

"Rev.  and  learned  Sir, — Coming  into  your  presence 
through  the  medium  of  a  letter,  I  do  so  in  the  spirit  of 
respect  due  to  you  as  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar.  I  unfortu- 
nately am  a  scholar,  but  a  blackguard.  I  heard  you  preach 
a  few  times,  and  thought  you  might  pity  the  position  I  have 
brought  myself  to.  I  should  be  grateful  to  you  for  an  old 
coat  or  an  old  pair  of  boots." 

And  while  the  seekers  after  emolument  write  odd  letters, 
odd  letters  are  also  written  by  their  admirers  on  their  behalf. 
A  few  years  ago  one  of  the  principal  benefices  in  West  London 
was  vacated,  and,  the  presentation  lapsing  to  the  Crown,  the 
Prime  Minister  received  the  following  appeal : — 

"  Sir, — Doubtless  you  do  not  often  get  a  letter  from  a 
working  man  on  the  subject  of  clerical  appointments,  but  as 
I  here  you  have  got  to  find  a  minister  for  to  fill  Mr.  Boyd 
Carpenter's  place,  allow  me  to  ask  you   to  just  go  some 

Sunday  afternoon  and  here  our  little  curate,  Mr.  ,  at 

St.  Matthew's  Church — he  is  a  good.  Earnest  little  man,  and 
a  genuine  little  Fellow  ;  got  no  humbug  about  him,  but  a 
sound  Churchman,  is  an  Extempor  Preacher,  and  deserves 
promotion.  Nobody  knows  I  am  writing  to  you,  and  it  is 
not  a  matter  of  kiss  and  go  by  favour,  but  simply  asking  you 
to  take  a  run  over  and  here  him,  and  then  put  him  a  stept 
higher — he  deserves  it.  I  know  Mr.  Sullivan  will  give  him  a 
good  character,  and  so  will  Mr.  Alcroft,  the  Patron.  Now 
do  go  over  and  here  him  before  you  make  a  choice.  We 
working  men  will  be  sorry  to  loose  him,  but  we  think  he 
ought  not  to  be  missed  promotion,  as  he  is  a  good  fellow. — 
Your  obediently  servant." 

Ladies,  as  might  naturally  be  expected,  are  even  more 
enthusiastic   in   advocating   the   claims   of    their   favourite 


3i6     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

divines.  Writing  lately  on  the  Agreeableness  of  Clergymen, 
I  described  some  of  the  Canons  of  St.  Paul's  and  West- 
minster, and  casually  referred  to  the  handsome  presence  of 
Dr.  Duckworth.  I  immediately  received  the  following  effu- 
sion, which,  wishing  to  oblige  the  writer,  and  having  no 
access  to  the  Church  Family  Newspaper,  I  now  make 
public : — 

"  A  member  of  the  Rev.  Canon  Duckworth's  congregation 
for  more  than  25  years  has  been  much  pained  by  the  scant 
and  curious  manner  in  which  he  is  mentioned  by  you,  and 
begs  to  say  that  his  Gospel  teaching,  his  scholarly  and  yet 
simple  and  charitable  discourses  (and  teaching),  his  courteous 
and  sympathetic  and  prompt  answers  to  his  people's  requests 
and  inquiries,  his  energetic  and  constant  work  in  his  parish, 
are  beyond  praise.  Added  to  all  is  his  clear  and  sonorous 
voice  in  his  rendering  of  the  prayer  and  praise  amongst  us. 
A  grateful  parishioner  hopes  and  asks  for  some  further 
recognition  of  his  position  in  the  Church  of  Christ,  in  the 
Church  Fafnify  Newspaper,  June  12."  So  far  the  Church. 
I  now  turn  to  the  world. 

In  the  second  volume  of  Lord  Beaconsfield's  Endymion 
will  be  found  a  description,  by  a  hand  which  was  never  ex- 
celled at  such  business,  of  that  grotesque  revival  of  medie- 
valism, the  Tournament  at  Eglinton  Castle  in  1839.  But 
the  writer,  conceding  something  to  the  requirements  of  art, 
ignores  the  fact  that  the  splendid  pageant  was  spoilt  by  rain. 
Two  years'  preparation  and  enormous  expense  were  thrown 
away.  A  grand  cavalcade,  in  which  Prince  Louis  Nappleon 
rode  as  one  of  the  knights,  left  Eglinton  Castle  on  the  28th 
of  August  at  two  in  the  afternoon,  with  heralds,  banners, 
pursuivants,  the  knight-marshal,  the  jester,  the  King  of  the 
Tournament,  the  Queen  of  Beauty,  and  a  glowing  assemblage 
of  knights  and  ladies,  seneschals,  chamberlains,  esquires, 
pages,  and  men-at-arms,  and  took  their  way  in  procession  to 
the  lists,  which  were  overlooked  by  galleries  in  which  nearly 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      317 

two  thousand  spectators  were  accommodated;  but  all  the 
while  the  rain  came  down  in  bucketfuls,  never  ceased  while 
the  tourney  proceeded,  and  brought  the  proceedings  to  a 
premature  and  ignominious  close.  I  only  mention  the  occur- 
rence here  because  the  Queen  of  Beauty,  elected  to  that  high 
honour  by  unanimous  acclamation,  was  Jane  Sheridan,  Lady 
Seymour;  and  there  is  all  the  charm  of  vivid  contrast  in 
turning  from  the  reckless  expenditure  and  fantastic  brilliancy 
of  1839  to  t^^  following  correspondence,  which  was  published 
in  the  newspapers  in  the  early  part  of  1840. 

Anne,  Lady  Shuckburgh,  was  the  wife  of  Sir  Francis 
Shuckburgh,  a  Northamptonshire  Baronet,  and  to  her  the 
Queen  of  Beauty,  forsaking  the  triumphs  of  chivalry  for 
the  duties  of  domestic  economy,  addressed  the  following 
letter  :— 

"  Lady  Seymour  presents  her  compliments  to  Lady  Shuck- 
burgh, and  would  be  obliged  to  her  for  the  character  of 
Mary  Stedman,  who  states  that  she  lived  twelve  months,  and 
still  is,  in  Lady  Shuckburgh's  establishment.  Can  Mary 
Stedman  cook  plain  dishes  well  ?  make  bread  ?  and  is  she 
honest,  good-tempered,  sober,  willing,  and  cleanly?  Lady 
Seymour  would  also  like  to  know  the  reason  why  she 
leaves  Lady  Shuckburgh's  service.  Direct,  under  cover  to 
Lord  Seymour,  Maiden  Bradley." 

To  this  polite  and  business-like  inquiry,  Lady  Shuck- 
burgh replied  as  follows  : — 

"  Lady  Shuckburgh  presents  her  compliments  to  Lady 
Seymour.  Her  ladyship's  note,  dated  October  28,  only 
reached  her  yesterday,  November  3.  Lady  Shuckburgh 
was  unacquainted  with  the  name  of  the  kitchen-maid  until 
mentioned  by  Lady  Seymour,  as  it  is  her  custom  neither  to 
apply  for  or  to  give  characters  to  any  of  the  under  servants, 
this  being  always  done  by  the  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Couch — 
and  this  was  well  known  to  the  young  woman ;  therefore 
Lady  Shuckburgh  is  surprised  at  her  referring  any  lady  to 


3i8      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

her  for  a  character.  Lady  Shuckburgh  having  a  professed 
cook,  as  well  as  a  housekeeper,  in  her  establishment,  it  is 
not  very  likely  she  herself  should  know  anything  of  the 
abilities  or  merits  of  the  under  servants ;  therefore  she  is 
unable  to  answer  Lady  Seymour's  note.  Lady  Shuckburgh 
cannot  imagine  Mary  Stedman  to  be  capable  of  cooking  for 
any  except  the  servants' -hall  table. 

"  November  4,  Pavilion,  Hans  Place." 

But  Sheridan's  granddaughter  was  quite  the  wrong  subject 
for  these  experiments  in  fine-ladyism,  and  she  lost  no  time 
in  replying  as  follows  : — 

"  Lady  Seymour  presents  her  compliments  to  Lady  Shuck- 
burgh, and  begs  she  will  order  her  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Pouch, 
to  send  the  girl's  character  without  delay ;  otherwise  another 
young  woman  will  be  sought  for  elsewhere,  as  Lady  Seymour's 
children  cannot  remain  without  their  dinners  because  Lady 
Shuckburgh,  keeping  a  '  professed  cook  and  a  housekeeper,' 
thinks  a  knowledge  of  the  details  of  her  establishment  beneath 
her  notice.  Lady  Seymour  understands  from  Stedman  that, 
in  addition  to  her  other  talents,  she  was  actually  capable  of 
dressing  food  fit  for  the  little  Shuckburghs  to  partake  of 
when  hungry." 

To  this  note  was  appended  a  pen-and-ink  vignette  by 
Lady  Seymour  representing  the  three  "  little  Shuckburghs," 
with  large  heads  and  cauliflower  wigs,  sitting  at  a  round 
table  and  voraciously  scrambling  for  mutton  chops  dressed 
by  Mary  Stedman,  who  was  seen  looking  on  with  supreme 
satisfaction,  while  Lady  Shuckburgh  appeared  in  the  dis- 
tance in  evident  dismay.  A  crushing  rejoinder  closed  this 
correspondence : — 

"  Madam, — Lady  Shuckburgh  has  directed  me  to  acquaint 
you  that  she  declines  answering  your  note,  the  vulgarity  of 
which  is  beneath  contempt ;  and  although  it  may  be  the 
characteristic  of  the  Sheridans  to   be   vulgar,  coarse,  and 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.  .319 

witty,  it  is  not  that  of  a  '  lady,'  unless  she  happens  to  have 
been  born  in  a  garret  and  bred  in  a  kitchen.  Mary  StedN 
man  informs  me  that  your  ladyship  does  not  keep  either  a 
cook  or  a  housekeeper,  and  that  you  only  require  a  girl 
who  can  cook  a  mutton  chop.  If  so,  I  apprehend  that 
Mary  Stedman  or  any  other  scullion  will  be  found  fully 
equal  to  cook  for  or  manage  the  establishment  of  the  Queen 
of  Beauty. — I  am,  your  Ladyship's,  (Sec, 

"  Elizabeth  Couch  (not  Pouch)." 

"  Odd  men,"  quoth  Bishop  Thorold,  "  write  odd  letters," 
and  so  do  odd  women.  The  origirial  of  the  following 
epistle  to  Mr.  Gladstone  lies  before  me.  It  is  dated  Cannes, 
March  15,  1893  : — 

"Far  away  from  my  native  Land,  my  bitter  indignation 
as  a  Welshwoman  prompts  me  to  reproach  you,  you  bad, 
■tvicked,  false,  treacherous  Old  Man !  for  your  iniquitous 
scheme  to  rob  and  overthrow  the  dearly-beloved  Old  Church 
of  my  Country.  You  have  no  conscience,  but  I  pray  that 
God  may  even  yet  give  you  one  that  will  sorely  smart  and 
trouble  you  before  you  die.  You  pretend  to  be  religious, 
you  old  hypocrite !  that  you  may  more  successfully  pander 
to  the  evil  passions  of  the  lowest  and  most  ignorant  of  the 
Welsh  people.  But  you  neither  care  for  nor  respect  the 
principles  of  Religion,  or  you  would  not  distress  the  minds 
of  all  true  Christian  people  by  instigating  a  mob  to  commit 
the  awful  sin  of  Sacrilege.  You  think  you  will  shine  in 
History,  but  it  will  be  a  notoriety  similar  to  that  of  JVero. 
I  see  some  one  pays  you  the  unintentional  compliment  of 
comparing  you  to  Pontius  Pilate,  and  I  am  sorry,  for  Pilate, 
though  a  political  time-server,  was,  with  all  his  faults,  a  very 
respectable  man  in  comparison  with  you.  And  he  did  not, 
like  you,  profess  the  Christian  Religion.  You  are  certainly 
clever.  So  also  is  your  lord  and  master  the  Devil.  And 
I  cannot  regard  it  as  sinful  to  hate  and  despise  you,  any 


320      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

more  than  it  is  sinful  to  abhor  him.     So,  with  full  measure 
of  contempt  and  detestation,  accept  these  compliments  from 
"  A  Daughter  of  Old  Wales." 

It  is  a  triumph  of  female  perseverance  and  ingenuity 
that  the  whole  of  the  foregoing  is  compressed  into  a  single 
postcard. 

Some  letters,  like  the  foregoing,  are  odd  from  their  extraor- 
dinary rudeness.  Others — not  usually,  it  must  be  admitted. 
Englishmen's  letters — are  odd  from  their  excess  of  civility. 
An  Italian  priest  working  in  London  wrote  to  a  Roman 
Catholic  M.P.,  asking  for  an  order  of  admission  to  the 
House  of  Commons,  and,  on  receiving  it,  acknowledged  it 
as  follows : — 

"  To  the  Hon.  Mr. ,  M.P. 

"  Hon.  Sir,  Son  in  Jesu  Christ,  I  beg  most  respectfully 
you,  Hon.  Sir,  to  accept  the  very  deep  gratitude  for  the 
ticket  which  you,  Hon.  Sir,  with  noble  kindness,  favoured 
me  by  post  to-day.  May  the  Blessing  of  God  Almighty 
come  upon  you,  Hon.  Sir,  and  may  He  preserve  you,  Hon. 
Sir,  for  ever  and  ever,  Amen !  With  all  due  respect,  I  have 
the  honour  to  be,  Hon.  Sir,  your  most 

"  humble  and  obedient  servant, 


Surely  the  British  Constituent  might  take  a  lesson  from 
this  extremely  polite  letter-writer  when  his  long-suffering 
Member  has  squeezed  him  into  the  Strangers'  Gallery. 

Some  letters,  again,  are  odd  from  their  excess  of  candour. 
A  gentleman,  unknown  to  me,  soliciting  pecuniary  assist- 
ance, informed  me  that,  having  "  sought  relief  from  trouble 
in  dissipation,"  he  "  committed  an  act  which  sent  him  into 
Penal  Servitude,"  and  shortly  after  his  release,  "wrote  a 
book  containing  many  suggestions  for  the  reform  of  prison 
discipline,"     A  lady,  widely  known  for  the  benevolent  use 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      321 

which  she  makes  of  great  wealth,  received  a  letter  from  an 
absolute  stranger,  setting  forth  that  he  had  been  so  un- 
fortunate as  to  bverdraw  his  account  at  his  bankers,  and 
adding,  "  As  I  know  that  it  will  only  cost  you  a  scratch  of 
the  pen  to  set  this  right,  I  make  no  apology  for  asking  you 
to  do  so." 

Among  "  odd  men  "  might  certainly  be  reckoned  the  late 
Archdeacon  Denison,  and  he  displayed  his  oddness  very 
characteristically  when,  having  quarrelled  with  the  Com- 
mittee of  Council  on  Education,  he  refused  to  have  his 
parish  schools  inspected,  and  thus  intimated  his  resolve  to 
the  inspector  : — 

"My  dear  Bellairs, — I  love  you  very  much;  but  if  you 
ever  come  here  again  to  inspect,  I  lock  the  door  of  the 
school,  and  tell  the  boys  to  put  you  in  the  pond." 

I  am  not  sure  whether  the  great  Duke  of  Wellington  can 
properly  be  described  as  an  "  odd  man,"  but  beyond  question 
he  wrote  odd  letters.  I  have  already  quoted  from  his  reply 
to  Mrs.  Norton  when  she  asked  leave  to  dedicate  a  song  to 
him  :  "  I  have  made  it  a  rule  to  have  nothing  dedicated  to 
me,  and  have  kept  it  in  every  instance,  though  I  have  been 
Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  and  in  other  situa- 
tions much  exposed  to  author sP  The  Duke  replied  to  every 
letter  that  he  received,  but  his  replies  were  not  always 
acceptable  to  their  recipients.  When  a  philanthropist 
begged  him  to  present  some  petitions  to  the  House  of 
Lords  on  behalf  of  the  wretched  chimney  sweeps,  the  Duke 
wrote  back :  "  Mr.  Stevens  has  thought  fit  to  leave  some 
petitions  at  Apsley  House.  They  will  be  found  with  the 
porter."  The  Duke's  correspondence  with  "  Miss  J.,"  which 
was  published  by  Mr.  Fisher  Unwin  some  ten  years  ago, 
and  is  much  less  known  than  it  deserves  to  be,  contains 
some  gems  of  composition.  Miss  J.  consulted  the  Duke 
about  her  duty  when  a  fellow-passenger  in  the  stage-coach 
swore,  and  he  wrote  :  "  I  don't  consider  with  you  that  it  is 


322      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

necessary  to  enter  into  a  disputation  with  every  wandering 
Blasphemer.  Much  must  depend  upon  the  circumstances." 
And  when  the  good  lady  mixed  flirtation  with  piety,  and 
irritability  with  both,  he  wrote  :  "  The  Duke  of  Wellington 
presents  His  Compliments  to  Miss  J.  She  is  quite  mistaken. 
He  has  no  Lock  of  Hair  of  Hers.     He  never  had  one."  * 

The  Letter  of  Condolence  is  a  branch  of  the  art  of  letter- 
writing  which  requires  very  delicate  handling.  This  was 
evidently  felt  by  the  Oxford  Don  who,  writing  to  condole 
with  a  father  qn  the  death  of  his  undergraduate  son,  con- 
cluded his  tribute  of  sympathy  by  saying :  "  At  the  same 
time,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  tell  you  that  your  son  would  not 
in  any  case  have  been  allowed  to  return  next  term,  as  he 
had  failed  to  pass  Responsions." 

Curtness  in  letter-writing  does  not  necessarily  indicate 
oddity.  It  often  is  the  most  judicious  method  of  avoid- 
ing interminable  correspondence.  When  one  of  Bishop 
Thorold's  clergy  wrote  to  beg  leave  of  absence  from  his 
duties  in  order  that  he  might  make  a  long  tour  in  the  East, 

he  received  for  all  r^ply :  "  Dear , — Go  to  Jericho. — 

Yours,  A.  W.  R."  At  a  moment  when  scarlet  fever  was 
ravaging  Haileybury,  and  suggestions  for  treatment  were 
pouring  in  by  every  post,  the  Head  Master  had  a  lithographed 
answer  prepared,  which  ran :  "  Dear  Sir, — I  am  obliged  by 
your  opinions,  and  retain  my  own."  An  admirable  answer 
was  made  by  another  Head  Master  to  a  pompous  matron, 
who  wrote  that,  before  she  sent  her  boy  to  his  school,  she 
must  ask  if  he  was  very  particular  about  the  social  antece- 
dents of  his  pupils  :  "  Dear  Madam,  as  long  as  your  son 
behaves  himself  and  his  fees  are  paid,  no  questions  will  be 
asked  about  his  social  antecedents." 

Sydney  Smith's  reply,  when  Lord  Houghton,  then  young 

*  Sir  Herbert  Maxwell,  in  his  Life  of  Wellington,  vouches  for  the 
genuineness  of  the  Duke's  letters  to  "  Miss  J."  She  was  Miss  A.  M. 
Jenkins. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      323 

'*  Dicky  Milnes,"  wrote  him  an  angry  letter  about  some 
supposed  unfriendliness,  was  a  model  of  mature  and  genial 
wisdom  :  "  Dear  Milnes, — Never  lose  your  good  temper, 
which  is  one  of  your  best  qualities."  When  the  then  Dean 
of  Hereford  wrote  a  solemn  letter  to  Lord  John  Russell, 
announcing  that  he  and  his  colleagues  would  refuse  to  elect 
Dr.  .  Hampden  to  the  See,  Lord  John  replied  :  "  Sir, — I 
have  had  the  honour  to  receive  your  letter  of  the  22nd  inst.. 
in  which  you  intimate  to  me  your  intention  of  violating  the 

law."     Some'years  ago  Lady  ,  who  is  well  known  as 

an  ardent  worker  in   the  interests  of  the  Roman  Church, 

wrote  to  the  Duke   of ,  a  sturdy  Protestant,  that  she 

was  greatly  interested  in  a  Roman  Catholic  Charity,  and, 
knowing  the  Duke's  wide  benevolence,  had  ventured  to  put 
down  his  name  for  ;^ioo.     The  Duke  wrote  back:  "Dear 

Lady , — It  is  a  curious  coincidence  that,  just  before  I 

got  your  letter,  I  had  put  down  your  name  for  a  like  sum  to 
the  English  Mission  for  converting  Irish  Catholics ;  so  no 
money  need  pass  between  us."  But  perhaps  the  supreme 
honours  of  curt  correspondence  belong  to  Mr.  Bright.  Let 
one  instance  suffice.  Having  been  calumniated  by  a  Tory 
orator  at  Barrow,  Mr.  Bright  wrote  as  follows  about  his 
traducer  :  "  He  may  not  know  that  he  is  ignorant,  but  he 
cannot  be  ignorant  that  he  lies.  And  after  such  a  speech 
the  meeting  thanked  him — I  presume  because  they  enjoyed 
what  he  had  given  them.  I  think  the  speaker  was  named 
Smith.  He  is  a  discredit  to  the  numerous  fatnily  of  that 
name." 


XXXIII. 

OFFICIALDOM. 

T^HE  announcements  relating  to  the  first  Cabinet  of  the 
-*-  winter  set  me  thinking  whether  my  readers  might  be 
interested  in  seeing  what  I  have  "  collected "  as  to  the 
daily  life  and  labours  of  her  Majesty's  Ministers.  I 
decided  that  I  would  try  the  experiment,  and,  acting  on 
the  principle  which  I  have  professed  before — that  when 
once  one  has  deliberately  chosen  certain  words  to  express 
one's  meaning  one  cannot,  as  a  rule,  alter  them  with  ad- 
vantage— I  shall  borrow  from  some  former  writings  of  my 
own. 

The  Cabinet  is  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  British 
Empire.  All  its  members  are  theoretically  equal ;  but,  as 
at  other  Boards,  the  effective  power  really  resides  in  three 
or  four.  At  the  present  moment  *  Manchester  is  represented 
by  one  of  these  potent  few.  Saturday  is  the  usual  day  for 
the  meeting  of  the  Cabinet,  though  it  may  be  convened  at 
any  moment  as  special  occasion  arises.  Describing  the 
potato-disease  which  led  to  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws, 
Lord  Beaconsfield  wrote :  "  This  mysterious  but  universal 
sickness  of  a  single  root  changed  the  history  of  the  world. 
'  There  is  no  gambling  like  politics,'  said  Lord  Roehampton, 
as  he  glanced  at  the  Times :  '  four  Cabinets  in  one  week ! 
The  Government  must  be  more  sick  than  the  potatoes  ! '  " 

*  1897. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      325 

Twelve  is  the  usual  hour  for  the  meeting  of  the  Cabinet, 
and  the  business  is  generally  over  by  two.  At  the  Cabinets 
held  during  November  the  legislative  programme  for  next 
session  is  settled,  and  the  preparation  of  each  measure  is 
assigned  to  a  sub-committee  of  Ministers  specially  conversant 
with  the  subject-matter.  Lord  Salisbury  holds  his  Cabinets 
at  the  Foreign  Office ;  but  the  old  place  of  meeting  was  the 
official  residence  of  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  at  10 
Downing  Street,  in  a  pillared  room  looking  over  the  Horse 
Guards  Parade,  and  hung  with  portraits  of  departed  First 
Lords. 

In  theory,  of  course,  the  proceedings  of  the  Cabinet  are 
absolutely  secret.  The  Privy  Councillor's  oath  prohibits  all 
disclosures.  No  record  is  kept  of  the  business  done.  The 
door  is  guarded  by  vigilant  attendants  against  possible  eaves- 
droppers. The  dispatch-boxes  which  constantly  circulate 
between  Cabinet  Ministers,  carrying  confidential  matters,  are 
carefully  locked  with  special  keys,  said  to  date  from  the  ad- 
ministration of  Mr.  Pitt ;  and  the  possession  of  these  keys 
constitutes  admission  into  what  Lord  Beaconsfield  called 
"the  circles  of  high  initiation."  Yet  in  reality  more  leaks 
out  than  is  supposed.  In  the  Cabinet  of  1880-5  ^^^  leak- 
age to  the  press  was  systematic  and  continuous.  Even  Mr. 
Gladstone,  the  stiffest  of  sticklers  for  official  reticence,  held 
that  a  Cabinet  Minister  might  impart  his  secrets  to  his  wife 
and  his  Private  Secretary.  The  wives  of  official  men  are  not 
always  as  trustworthy  as  Mrs.  Bucket  in  Bleak  House,  and 
some  of  the  Private  Secretaries  in  the  Government  of  1880 
were  little  more  than  boys.  Two  members  of  that  Cabinet 
were  notorious  for  their  free  communications  to  the  press, 
and  it  was  often  remarked  that  the  Birmingham  Daily  Post 
was  peculiarly  well  informed.  A  noble  Lord  who  held  a 
high  office,  and  who,  though  the  most  pompous,  was  not 
the  wisest  of  mankind,  was  habitually  a  victim  to  a  certain 
journalist  of  known   enterprise,   who    used  to   waylay  him 


326      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

outside  Downing  Street  and  accost  him  with  jaunty  confi- 
dence: "  Well,  Lord ,  so  you  have  settled  on  so-and-so 

after  all  ? "  The  noble  lord,  astonished  that  the  Cabinet's 
decision  was  already  public  property,  would  reply,  "  As  you 
know  so  much,  there  can  be  no  harm  in  telling  the  rest ; " 
and  the  journalist,  grinning  like  a  dog,  ran  off  to  print  the 
precious  morsel  in  a  special  edition  of  the  Millbank  Gazette. 
Mr.  Justin  McCarthy  could,  I  believe,  tell  a  curious  story  of 
a  highly  important  piece  of  foreign  intelligence  communi- 
cated by  a  Minister  to  the  Daily  News;  of  a  resulting 
question  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  of  the  same 
Minister's  emphatic  declaration  that  no  effort  should  be 
wanting  to  trace  this  violator  of  official  confidence  and  bring 
him  to  condign  punishment. 

While  it  is  true  that  outsiders  sometimes  become  pos- 
sessed by  these  dodges  of  official  secrets,  it  is  not  less  true 
that  Cabinet  Ministers  are  often  curiously  in  the  dark  about 
great  and  even  startling  events.  A  political  lady  once  said 
to  me,  "  Do  you  in  your  party  think  much  of  my  neighbour, 

Mr.  ?"     As  in   duty  bound,   I   replied,   "Oh    yes,    a 

great  deal."  She  rejoined,  "  I  shouldn't  have  thought  it, 
for  when  the  boys  are  shouting  any  startling  news  in  the 
special  editions,  I  see  him  run  out  without  his  hat  to  buy  an 
evening  paper.  That  doesn't  look  well  for  a  Cabinet  Minis- 
ter." On  the  fatal  6th  of  May  1882  I  dined  in  company 
with  Mr.  Bright.  He  stayed  late,  but  never  heard  a  word 
of  the  murders  which  had  taken  place  that  evening  in  the 
Phoenix  Park;  went  ofT  quietly  to  bed,  and  read  them  as 
news  in  the  next  morning's  Observer. 

But,  after  all,  attendance  at  the  Cabinet,  though  a  most 
important,  is  only  an  occasional,  event  in  the  life  of  one 
of  her  Majesty's  Ministers.  Let  us  consider  the  ordinary 
routine  of  his  day's  work  during  the  session  of  Parliament. 
The  truly  virtuous  Minister,  we  may  presume,  struggles 
down  to  the  dining-room  to  read  prayers  and  to  breakfast 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      327 

in  the  bosom  of  his  family  between  9  and  10  a.m.  But 
the  self-indulgent  bachelor  declines  to  be  called,  and  sleeps 
his  sleep  out.  Mr.  Arthur  Balfour  invariably  breakfasts  at 
1 2 ;  and  more  politicians  than  would  admit  it  consume 
their  tea  and  toast  in  bed.  Mercifully,  the  dreadful  habit  of 
giving  breakfast-parties,  though  sanctioned  by  the  memories 
of  Holland  and  Macaulay  and  Rogers  and  Houghton,  vir- 
tually died  out  with  the  disappearance  of  Mr.  Gladstone. 

"  Men  who  breakfast  out  are  generally  Liberals,"  says 
Lady  St.  Julians  in  Sybil.     "  Have  not  you  observed  that  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  why?" 

"  It  shows  a  restless,  revolutionary  mind,"  said  Lady 
Firebrace,  "  that  can  settle  to  nothing,  but  must  be  running 
after  gossip  the  moment  they  are  awake.'' 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  St.  Julians,  "I  think  those  men  who 
breakfast  out,  or  who  give  breakfasts,  are  generally  dangerous 
characters ;  at  least  I  would  not  trust  them." 

And  Lady  St.  Julians's  doctrine,  though  half  a  century 
old,  applies  with  perfect  exactness  to  those  enemies  of  the 
human  race  who  endeavour  to  keep  alive  or  to  resuscitate 
this  desperate  tradition.  Juvenal  described  the  untimely 
fate  of  the  man  who  went  into  his  bath  with  an  undigested 
peacock  in  his  system.  Scarcely  pleasanter  are  the  sensa- 
tions of  the  Minister  or  the  M.P.  who  goes  from  a  breakfast- 
party,  full  of  buttered  muffins  and  broiled  salmon,  to  the 
sedentary  desk-work  of  his  office  or  the  fusty  wrangles  of 
a  Grand  Committee, 

Breakfast  over,  the  Minister's  fancy  lightly  turns  to 
thoughts  of  exercise.  If  he  is  a  man  of  active  habits  and 
strenuous  tastes,  he  may  take  a  gentle  breather  up  Highgate 
Hill,  like  Mr.  Gladstone,  or  play  tennis,  like  Sir  Edward 
Grey.  Lord  Spencer  when  in  office  might  be  seen  any 
morning  cantering  up  St.  James's  Street  on  a  hack,  or 
pounding  round  Hyde  Park  in  high  naval  debate  with  Sir 
Ughtred  Kay-Shuttleworth.     Lord  Rosebery  drives  himself 


328     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

in  a  cab ;  Mr.  Asquith  is  driven ;  both  occasionally  survey 
the  riding  world  over  the  railings  of  Rotten  Row ;  and  even 
Lord  Salisbury  may  be  found  prowling  about  the  Green 
Park,  to  which  his  house  in  Arlington  Street  has  a  private 
access.  Mr.  Balfour,  as  we  all  know,  is  a  devotee  of  the 
cycle,  and  his  example  is  catching ;  but  Mr.  Chamberlain 
holds  fast  to  the  soothing  belief  that,  when  a  man  has 
walked  upstairs  to  bed,  he  has  made  as  much  demand  on 
his  physical  energies  as  is  good  for  him,  and  that  exercise 
was  invented  by  the  doctors  in  order  to  bring  grist  to  their 
mill. 

Whichever  of  these  examples  our  Minister  prefers  to 
follow,  his  exercise  or  his  lounge  must  be  over  by  1 2  o'clock. 
The  Grand  Committees  meet  at  that  hour ;  on  Wednesday 
the  House  meets  then ;  and  if  he  is  not  required  by  depart- 
mental business  to  attend  either  the  Committee  or  the 
House,  he  will  probably  be  at  his  office  by  midday.  The 
exterior  aspect  of  the  Government  Offices  in  Whitehall  is 
sufficiently  well  known,  and  any  peculiarities  which  it  may 
present  are  referable  to  the  fact  that  the  execution  of  an 
Italian  design  was  entrusted  by  the  wisdom  of  Parliament 
to  a  Gothic  architect.  Inside,  their  leading  characteristics 
are  the  abundance  and  steepness  of  the  stairs,  the  total 
absence  of  light,  and  an  atmosphere  densely  charged  with 
Irish  stew.  Why  the  servants  of  the  British  Government 
should  live  exclusively  on  this  delicacy,  and  why  its  odours 
should  prevail  with  equal  pungency  "from  morn  to  noon, 
from  noon  to  dewy  eve,"  are  matters  of  speculation  too 
recondite  for  popular  handling. 

The  Minister's  own  room  is  probably  on  the  first  floor — 
perhaps  looking  into  Whitehall,  perhaps  into  the  Foreign 
Office  Square,  perhaps  on  to  the  Horse  Guards  Parade.  It 
is  a  large  room  with  immense  windows,  and  a  fireplace 
ingeniously  contrived  to  send  all  its  heat  up  the  chimney. 
If  the  office  is  one  of  the  older  ones,  the  room  probably 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      329 

contains  some  good  pieces  of  furniture  derived  from  a 
less  penurious  age  than  ours — a  bureau  or  bookcase  of 
mahogany  dark  with  years,  showing  in  its  staid  ornamenta- 
tion traces  of  Chippendale  or  Sheraton;  a  big  clock  in  a 
handsome  case ;  and  an  interesting  portrait  of  some  historic 
statesman  who  presided  over  the  department  two  centuries 
ago.  But  in  the  more  modern  offices  all  is  barren.  Since 
the  late  Mr.  Ayrton  was  First  Commissioner  of  Works  a 
squalid  cheapness  has  reigned  supreme.  Deal  and  paint 
are  everywhere ;  doors  that  won't  shut,  bells  that  won't  ring, 
and  curtains  that  won't  meet.  In  two  articles  alone  there 
is  prodigality — books  and  stationery.  Hansard's  Debates, 
the  Statutes  at  Large,  treatises  illustrating  the  work  of  the 
office,  and  books  of  reference  innumerable,  are  there ;  and 
the  stationery  shows  a  delightful  variety  of  shape,  size,  and 
texture,  adapted  to  every  conceivable  exigency  of  official 
correspondence. 

It  is  indeed  in  the  item' of  stationery,  and  in  that  alone, 
that  the  grand  old  constitutional  system  of  perquisites  sur- 
vives. Morbidly  conscientious  Ministers  sometimes  keep  a 
supply  of  their  private  letter-paper  on  their  office-table  and 
use  it  for  their  private  correspondence ;  but  the  more 
frankly  human  sort  write  all  their  letters  on  official  paper. 
On  whatever  paper  written,  Ministers'  letters  go  free  from 
the  office  and  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  certain  artful 
correspondents  outside,  knowing  that  a  letter  to  a  public 
office  need  not  be  stamped,  write  to  the  Minister  at  his 
official  address  and  save  their  penny.  In  days  gone  by  each 
Secretary  of  State  received  on  his  appointment  a  silver 
inkstand,  which  he  could  hand  down  as  a  keepsake  to 
his  children.  Mr.  Gladstone,  when  he  was  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer,  abolished  this  little  perquisite,  and  the  only 
token  of  office  which  an  outgoing  Minister  can  now  take 
with  him  is  his  dispatch-box.  The  wife  of  a  minister  who 
had  long  occupied  an  official  residence,  on  being  evicted 


330      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

from  office  said  with  a  pensive  sigh,  "  I  hope  I  am  not 
avaricious,  but  I  must  say,  when  one  was  hanging  up  pictures, 
it  was  very  pleasant  to  have  the  Board  of  Works  carpenter 
and  a  bag  of  the  largest  nails  for  nothing." 
'  The  late  Sir  William  Gregory  used  to  narrate  how  when 
a  child  he  was  taken  by  his  grandfather,  who  was  Under- 
Secretary  for  Ireland,  to  see  the  Chief  Secretary,  Lord  Mel- 
bourne, in  his  official  room.  The  good-natured  old  Whig 
asked  the  boy  if  there  was  anything  in  the  room  that  he 
would  like ;  and  he  chose  a  large  stick  of  sealing  -  wax. 
"That's  right,"  said  Lord  Melbourne,  pressing  a  bundle 
of  pens  into  his  hand :  "  begin  life  early.  All  these  things 
belong  to  the  public,  and  your  business  must  always  be 
to  get  out  of  the  public  as  much  as  you  can."  There  spoke 
the  true  spirit  of  our  great  governing  families.  ■ 

And  now  our  Minister,  seated  at  his  official  table,  touches 
his  pneumatic  bell.  His  Private  Secretary  appears  with  a 
pile  of  papers,  and  the  day's  work  begins.  That  work,  of 
course,  differs  enormously  in  amount,  nature,  importance, 
and  interest  with  different  offices.  To  the  outside  world 
probably  one  office  is  much  the  same  as  another,  but  the 
difference  in  the  esoteric  view  is  wide  indeed.  When  the 
Revised  Version  of  the  New  Testament  came  out,  an  accom- 
plished gentleman  who  had  once  been  Mr.  Gladstone's  Private 
Secretary,  and  had  been  appointed  by  him  to  an  important 
post  in  the  permanent  Civil  Service,  said  :  "  Mr.  Gladstone, 
I  have  been  looking  at  the  Revised  Version,  and  I  think  it 
distinctly  inferior  to  the  old  one." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Gladstone,  with  all  his  theological 
ardour  roused  at  once ;  "  I  am  very  much  interested  to 
hear  you  say  so.     Pray  give  me  an  instance." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  Permanent  Official,  "  look  at  the  first 
verse  of  the  second  chapter  of  St.  Luke.  That  verse  used 
to  run,  *  There  went  out  a  decree  from  Caesar  Augustus 
that   all    the    world    should    be    taxed.'      Well,   I    always 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      331 

thought  that  a  splendid  idea — a  tax  levied  on  the  whole 
world  by  a  single  Act — a  grand  stroke  worthy  of  a  great 
empire  and  an  imperial  treasury.  But  in  the  Revised 
Version  I  find,  '  There  went  out  a  decree  that  all  the  world 
should  be  enrolled ' — a  mere  counting  !  a  census !  the  sort 
of  thing  the  Local  Government  Board  could  do  !  Will  any 
one  tell  me  that  the  new  version  is  as  good  as  the  old  one 
in  this  passage  ?  " 

This  story  aptly  illustrates  the  sentiments  with  which  the 
more  powerful  and  more  ancient  departments  regard  those 
later  births  of  time,  the  Board  of  Trade,  the  Local  Govern- 
ment Board,  the  Board  of  Agriculture,  and  even  the  Scotch 
Office — though  this  last  is  redeemed  from  utter  contempt 
by  the  irritable  patriotism  of  our  Scottish  fellow  -  citizens, 
and  by  the  beautiful  house  in  which  it  is  lodged.  For  a 
Minister  who  loves  an  arbitrary  and  single-handed  authority 
the  India  Office  is  the  most  attractive  of  all.  The  Secretary 
of  State  for  India  is  (except  in  financial  matters,  where  he 
is  controlled  by  his  Council)  a  pure  despot.  He  has  the 
Viceroy  at  the  end  of  a  telegraph-wire,  and  the  Queen's 
three  hundred  millions  of  Indian  subjects  under  his  thumb. 
His  salary  is  not  voted  by  the  House  of  Commons ;  very 
few  M.P.'s  care  a  rap  about  India;  and  he  is  practically 
free  from  Parliamentary  control.  The  Foreign  Office,  of 
course,  is  full  of  interest,  and  its  social  traditions  have 
always  been  of  the  most  dignified  sort — from  the  days  when 
Mr.  Ranville-Ranville  used  to  frequervt  Mrs.  Perkins's  Balls 
to  the  existing  reign  of  Sir  Thomas  Sanderson  and  Mr.  Eric 
Barrington. 

The  Treasury  has  its  finger  in  every  departmental  pie 
except  the  Indian  one,  for  no  Minister  and  no  department 
can  carry  out  reforms  or  even  discharge  its  ordinary  routine 
without  public  money,  and  of  public  money  the  Treasury  is 
the  vigilant  and  inflexible  guardian.  "  I  am  directed  to  ac- 
quaint you  that  My  Lords  do  not  see  their  way  to  comply 


332     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

with  your  suggestion,  inasmuch  as  to  do  so  would  be  to 
open  a  serious  door.^^  This  delightful  formula,  with  its  dread 
suggestion  of  a  flippant  door  and  all  the  mischief  to  which 
it  might  lead,  is  daily  employed  to  check  the  ardour  of 
Ministers  who  are  seeking  to  advance  the  benefit  of  the  race 
(including  their  own  popularity  among  their  constituents) 
by  a  judicious  expenditure  of  public  money.  But  whatever 
be  the  scope  and  function  of  the  office,  and  whatever  the 
nature  of  the  work  done  there,  the  mode  of  doing  it  is  pretty 
much  the  same.  Whether  the  matter  in  question  originates 
inside  the  office  by  some  direction  or  inquiry  of  the  chief, 
or  comes  by  letter  from  outside,  it  is  referred  to  the  par- 
ticular department  of  the  office  which  is  concerned  with  it. 
A  clerk  makes  a  careful  minute,  giving  the  facts  of  the  case 
and  the  practice  of  the  office  as  bearing  on  it.  The  paper 
is  then  sent  to  any  other  department  or  person  in  the  office 
that  can  possibly  have  any  concern  with  it.  It  is  minuted 
by  each,  and  it  gradually  passes  up,  by  more  or  fewer  official 
gradations,  to  the  Under-Secretary  of  State,  who  reads,  or  is 
supposed  to  read,  all  that  has  been  written  on  the  paper  in 
its  earlier  stages,  balances  the  perhaps  conflicting  views  of 
different  annotators,  and,  if  the  matter  is  too  important  for 
his  own  decision,  sums  up  in  a  minute  of  recommendation 
to  the  chief.  The  ultimate  decision,  however,  is  probably 
less  affected  by  the  Under-Secretary's  minute  than  by  the 
oral  advice  of  a  much  more  important  personage,  the  Per- 
manent Head  of  the  office. 

It  would  be  beyond  my  present  scope  to  discuss  the 
composition  and  powers  of  the  permanent  Civil  Service, 
whose  chiefs  have  been,  at  least  since  the  days  of  Bagehot, 
recognized  as  the  real  rulers  of  this  country.  For  absolute 
knowledge  of  their  business,  for  self-denying  devotion  to 
duty,  for  ability,  patience,  courtesy,  and  readiness  to  help 
the  fleeting  Political  Official,  the  permanent  chiefs  of  the 
Civil  Service  are  worthy  of  the  highest  praise.     That  they 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      333 

are  conservative  *  to  the  core  is  only  to  say  that  they  are 
human.  On  being  appointed  to  permanent  office  the 
extremest  theorists,  like  the  bees  in  the  famous  epigram, 
"cease  to  hum"  their  revolutionary  airs,  and  settle  down 
into  the  profound  conviction  that  things  are  well  as  they 
are.  All  the  more  remarkable  is  the  entire  equanimity  with 
which  the  Permanent  Official  accepts  the  unpalatable  decision 
of  a  chief  who  is  strong  enough  to  override  him,  and  the 
absolute  loyalty  with  which  he  will  carry  out  a  policy  which 
he  cordially  disapproves. 

Much  of  a  Minister's  comfort  and  success  depends  upon 
his  Private  Secretary.  Some  Ministers  import  for  this 
function  a  young  gentleman  of  fashion  whom  they  know  at 
home — a  picturesque  butterfly  who  flits  gaily  through  the 
dusty  air  of  the  office,  making,  by  the  splendour  of  his 
raiment,  sunshine  in  its  shady  places,  and  daintily  passing 
on  the  work  to  unrecognized  and  unrewarded  clerks.  But 
the  better  practice  is  to  appoint  as  Private  Secretary  one  of 
the  permanent  staff  of  the  office.  He  supplies  his  chief  with 
official  information,  hunts  up  necessary  references,  writes  his 
letters,  and  interviews  his  bores. 

When  the  late  Lord  Ampthill  was  a  junior  clerk  in  the 
Foreign  Office,  Lord  Palmerston,  then  Foreign  Secretary, 
introduced  an  innovation  whereby,  instead  of  being  solemnly 
summoned  by  a  verbal  message,  the  clerks  were  expected  to 
answer  his  bell.  Some  haughty  spirits  rebelled  against  being 
treated  like  footmen,  and  tried  to  organize  resistance ;  but 
Odo  Russell,  as  he  then  was,  refused  to  join  the  rebellious 
movement,  saying  that  whatever  method  apprized  him  most 
quickly  of  Lord  Palmerston's  wishes  was  the  method  which 
he  preferred.  The  aggrieved  clerks  regarded  him  as  a  traitor 
to  his  order — but  he  died  an  ambassador.    Trollope  described 

*  The  word  "conservative"  here  apph'es  only  to  official  routine. 
The  Civil  Service  has  no  politics,  but  many  of  its  members  are  staunch 
Liberals. 


334      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

the  wounded  feelings  of  a  young  clerk  whose  chief  sent  him 
to  fetch  his  slippers ;  and  in  our  own  day  a  Private  Secretary, 
who  had  patiently  taken  tickets  for  the  play  for  his  chiefs 
daughters,  drew  the  line  when  he  was  told  to  take  the  chief's 
razors  to  be  ground.  But  such  assertions  of  independence 
are  extremely  rare,  and  as  a  rule  the  Private  Secretary  is  the 
most  cheerful  and  the  most  alert  of  ministering  spirits. 

But  it  is  time  to  return  from  this  personal  digression  to  the 
routine  of  the  day's  work.  Among  the  most  important  of  the 
morning's  duties  is  the  preparation  of  answers  to  be  given  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  it  is  often  necessary  to  have 
answers  ready  by  three  o'clock  to  questions  which  have  only 
appeared  that  morning  on  the  notice-paper.  The  range  of 
questions  is  infinite,  and  all  the  resources  of  the  office  are 
taxed  in  order  to  prepare  answers  at  once  accurate  in  fact 
and  wise  in  policy,  to  pass  them  under  the  Minister's  review, 
and  to  get  them  fairly  copied  out  before  the  House  meets. 
As  a  rule,  the  Minister,  knowing  something  of  the  temper  of 
Parliament,  wishes  to  give  a  full,  explicit,  and  intelligible 
answer,  or  even  to  go  a  little  beyond  the  strict  terms  of  the 
question  if  he  sees  what  his  interrogator  is  driving  at.  But 
this  policy  is  abhorrent  to  the  Permanent  Official.  The 
traditions  of  the  Circumlocution  Office  are  by  no  means 
dead,  and  the  crime  of  "  wanting  to  know,  you  know,"  is 
one  of  the  most  heinous  that  the  M.P.  can  commit.  The 
answers,  therefore,  as  prepared  for  the  Minister  are  generally 
jejune,  often  barely  civil,  sometimes  actually  misleading. 
But  the  Minister,  if  he  be  a  wise  man,  edits  them"  into  a 
more  informing  shape,  and  after  a  long  and  careful  delibera- 
tion as  to  the  probable  effect  of  his  words  and  the  reception 
which  they  will  have  from  his  questioner,  he  sends  the  bundle 
of  written  answers  away  to  be  fair-copied  and  turns  to  his 
correspondence. 

And  here  the  practice  of  Ministers  varies  exceedingly. 
Lord  Salisbury  writes  almost  everything  with  his  own  hand. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      335 

Mr.  Balfour  dictates  to  a  shorthand  clerk.  Most  Ministers 
write  a  great  deal  by  their  Private  Secretaries.  Letters  of 
any  importance  are  usually  transcribed  into  a  copying-book. 
A  Minister  whom  I  knew  used  to  burn  the  fragment  of 
blotting-paper  with  which  he  had  blotted  his  letter,  and  laid 
it  down  as  an  axiom  that,  if  a  constituent  wrote  and  asked  a 
Member  to  vote  for  a  particular  measure,  the  Member  should 
on  no  account  give  a  more  precise  reply  than,  "  I  shall 
have  great  pleasure  in  voting  in  the  sense  you  desire."  For, 
as  this  expert  observed  with  great  truth,  "unless  the  con- 
stituent has  kept  a  copy  of  his  letter — and  the  chances  are 
twenty  to  one  against  that — there  will  be  nothing  to  prove 
what  the  sense  he  desired  was,  and  you  will  be  perfectly  safe 
in  voting  as  you  like."  The  letters  received  by  a  Minister 
are  many,  various,  and  surprising.  Of  course,  a  great  pro- 
portion of  them  relate  to  public  business,  and  a  considerable 
number  to  the  affairs  of  his  constituency.  But,  in  addition 
to  all  this,  lunatics,  cranks,  and  impostors  mark  a  Minister 
for  their  own,  and  their  applications  for  loans,  gifts,  and 
offices  of  profit  would  exhaust  the  total  patronage  of  the 
Crown  and  break  the  Bank  of  England. 

When  the  day's  official  papers  have  been  dealt  with, 
answers  to  questions  settled,  correspondence  read,  and  the 
replies  written  or  dictated,  it  is  very  likely  time  to  go  to  a 
conference  on  some  Bill  with  which  the  office  is  concerned. 
This  conference  will  consist  of  the  Minister  in  charge  of  the 
Bill,  two  or  three  of  his  colleagues  who  have  special  know- 
ledge of  the  subject,  the  Permanent  Officials,  the  Parliamen- 
tary draftsman,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  Law  Officers.  At 
the  conference  the  amendments  on  the  paper  are  carefully 
discussed,  together  with  the  objects  for  which  they  were  pre- 
sumably put  down,  their  probable  effect,  their  merits  or 
demerits,  and  the  best  mode  of  meeting  them.  An  hour 
soon  passes  in  this  kind  of  anticipatory  debate,  and  the 
Minister  is  called  away  to  receive  a  deputation. 


336     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

The  scene  is  exactly  like  that  which  Matthew  Arnold 
described  at  the  Social  Science  Congress — the  large  bare 
room,  dusty  air,  and  jaded  light,  serried  ranks  of  men 
with  bald  heads  and  women  in  spectacles ;  the  local  M.P., 
like  Mr.  Gregsbury  in  Nicholas  Nickleby,  full  of  affability 
and  importance,  introducing  the  selected  spokesmen — "  Our 
worthy  mayor;  our  leading  employer  of  labour;  Miss 
Twoshoes,  a  philanthropic  worker  in  all  good  causes " — 
the  Minister,  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  whole  subject, 
smiling  blandly  or  gazing  earnestly  from  his  padded  chair  j 
the  Permanent  Official  at  his  elbow  murmuring  what  the 
"practice  of  the  department "  has  been,  what  his  predecessor 
said  on  a  similar  occasion  ten  years  ago,  and  why  the  object 
of  the  deputation  is  equally  mischievous  and  impossible; 
and  the  Minister  finally  expressing  sympathy  and  promising 
earnest  consideration.  Mr.  Bright,  though  the  laziest  of 
mankind  at  official  work,  was  the  ideal  hand  at  receiving 
deputations.  Some  Ministers  scold  or  snub  or  harangue, 
but  he  let  the  spokesmen  talk  their  full,  listened  patiently, 
smiled  pleasantly,  said  very  little,  treated  the  subject  with 
gravity  or  banter  as  its  nature  required,  paid  the  introducing 
member  a  compliment  on  his  assiduity  and  public  spirit,  and 
sent  them  all  away  on  excellent  terms  with  themselves  and 
highly  gratified  by  their  intelligent  and  courteous  reception. 

So  far  we  have  described  our  Minister's  purely  depart- 
mental duties.  But  perhaps  the  Cabinet  meets  at  twelve, 
and  at  the  Cabinet  he  must,  to  use  Mr.  Gladstone's  phrase, 
"throw  his  mind  into  the  common  stock"  with  his  fellow- 
Ministers,  and  take  part  in  the  discussions  and  decisions 
which  govern  the  Empire.  By  two  o'clock  or  thereabouts 
the  Cabinet  is  over.  The  labours  of  the  morning  are  now 
beginning  to  tell,  and  exhausted  Nature  rings  her  luncheon- 
bell.  Here  again  men's  habits  widely  differ.  If  our  Minister 
has  breakfasted  late,  he  will  go  on  till  four  or  five,  and  then 
have  tea  and  toast,  and  perhaps  a  poached  egg ;  but  if  he 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      337 

is  an  early  man,  he  craves  for  nutriment  more  substantial- 
He  must  not  go  out  to  luncheon  to  a  friend's  house,  for  he 
will  be  tempted  to  eat  and  drink  too  much,  and  absence 
from  official  territory  in  the  middle  of  the  day  has  a  bad  look 
of  idleness  and  self-indulgence.  The  dura  ilia  of  the  pres- 
ent *  Duke  of  Devonshire  could  always  cope  with  a  slice  of 
the  office-joint,  a  hunch  of  the  office-bread,  a  glass  of  the 
office-sherry.  But,  as  a  rule,  if  a  man  cannot  manage  to  get 
back  to  the  family  meal  in  South  Kensington  or  Cavendish 
Square,  he  turns  into  a  club,  has  a  cutlet  and  a  glass  of 
claret,  and  gets  back  to  his  office  for  another  hour's  work 
before  going  to  the  House. 

At  3.30  questions  begin,  and  every  Minister  is  in  his  place, 
unless,  indeed,  there  is  a  Levee  or  a  Drawing-room,  when  a 
certain  number  of  Ministers,  besides  the  great  Officers  of 
State,  are  expected  to  be  present.  The  Minister  lets  himself 
into  the  House  by  a  private  door — of  which  Ministers  alone 
have  the  key — at  the  back  of  the  Chair.  For  an  hour  and 
a  half,  or  perhaps  longer,  the  storm  of  questions  rages,  and 
then  the  Minister,  if  he  is  in  charge  of  the  Bill  under  discus- 
sion, settles  himself  on  the  Treasury  Bench  to  spend  the 
remainder  of  the  day  in  a  hand-to-hand  encounter  with  the 
banded  forces  of  the  Opposition,  which  will  tax  to  their 
utmost  his  brain,  nerve,  and  physical  endurance.  If,  how- 
ever, he  is  not  directly  concerned  with  the  business,  he  goes 
out  perhaps  for  a  breath  of  air  and  a  cup  of  tea  on  the 
Terrace,  and  then  buries  himself  in  his  private  room — gener- 
ally a  miserable  little  dog-hole  in  the  basement  of  the 
House — where  he  finds  a  pile  of  office-boxes,  containing 
papers  which  must  be  read,  minuted,  and  returned  to  the 
office  with  all  convenient  dispatch.  From  these  labours  he 
is  suddenly  summoned  by  the  shrill  ting-ting  of  the  division- 
bell  and  the  raucous  bellow  of  the  policeman  to  take  part  in 
a  division.  He  rushes  upstairs  two  steps  at  a  time,  and 
*  Spencer  Compton,  8th  Duke. 


338      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

squeezes  himself  into  the  House  through  the  almost  closed 
doors.  "  What  are  we  ?  "  he  shouts  to  the  VVhip.  "  Ayes  " 
or  "Noes"  is  the  hurried  answer;  and  he  stalks  through 
the  lobby  to  discharge  this  intelligent  function,  dives  down 
to  his  room  again,  only,  if  the  House  is  in  Committee,  to 
be  dragged  up  again  ten  minutes  afterwards  for  another 
repetition  of  the  same  farce,  and  so  on  indefinitely. 

It  may  be  asked  why  a  Minister  should  undergo  all  this 
worry  of  running  up  and  down  and  in  and  out,  laying  down 
his  work  and  taking  it  up  again,  dropping  threads,  and  losing 
touch,  and  wasting  time,  all  to  give  a  purely  party  vote, 
settled  for  him  by  his  colleague  in  charge  of  the  Bill,  on  a 
subject  with  which  he  is  personally  unfamiliar.  If  the 
Government  is  in  peril,  of  course  every  vote  is  wanted  ;  but, 
with  a  normal  majority,  Ministers'  votes  might  surely  be 
"taken  as  read,"  and  assumed  to  be  given  to  the  side  to 
which  they  belong.  But  the  traditions  of  Government  re- 
quire Ministers  to  vote.  It  is  a  point  of  honour  for  each 
man  to  be  in  as  many  divisions  as  possible.  A  record  is 
kept  of  all  the  divisions  of  the  session  and  of  the  week,  and 
a  list  is  sent  round  every  Monday  morning  showing  in  how 
many  each  Minister  has  voted. 

The  Whips,  who  must  live  and  move  and  have  their  being 
in  the  House,  naturally  head  the  list,  and  their  colleagues 
follow  in  a  rather  uncertain  order.  A  Minister's  place  in 
this  list  is  mainly  governed  by  the  question  whether  he  dines 
at  the  House  or  not.  If  he  dines  away  and  "  pairs,"  of 
course  he  does  not  in  the  least  jeopardize  his  party  or  em- 
barrass his  colleagues;  tut  "pairs"  are  not  indicated  in 
the  list  of  divisions,  and,  as  divisions  have  an  awkward 
knack  of  happening  between  nine  and  ten,  the  habitual 
diner-out  naturally  sinks  in  the  list.  If  he  is  a  married  man, 
the  claims  of  the  home  are  to  a  certain  extent  recognized 
by  his  Whips,  but  woe  to  the  bachelor  who,  with  no  domestic 
excuse,  steals  away  for  two  hours'  relaxation.     The  good 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      339 

Minister  therefore  stays  at  the  House  and  dines  there.  Per- 
haps he  is  entertaining  ladies  in  the  crypt-like  dining-rooms 
which  look  on  the  Terrace,  and  in  that  case  the  charms  of 
society  may  neutralize  the  material  discomforts.  But,  if  he 
dine  upstairs  at  the  Ministerial  table,  few  indeed  are  the 
alleviations  of  his  lot.  In  the  first  place  he  must  dine 
with  the  colleagues  with  .whom  his  whole  waking  life  is 
passed — excellent  fellows  and  capital  company — but  nature 
demands  an  occasional  enlargement  of  the  mental  horizon. 
Then  if  by  chance  he  has  one  special  bugbear — a  bore  or  an 
egotist,  a  man  with  dirty  hands  or  a  churlish  temper — that 
man  will  inevitably  come  and  sit  down  beside  him  and  insist 
on  being  affectionate  and  fraternal. 

The  room  is  very  hot ;  dinners  have  been  going  on  in  it 
for  the  last  two  hours ;  the  Kvicrr] — the  odour  of  roast  meat, 
which  the  gods  loved,  but  which  most  men  dislike — per- 
vades the  atmosphere ;  your  next-door  neighbour  is  eating  a 
rather  high  grouse  while  you  are  at  your  apple-tart,  or  the 
perfumes  of  a  deliquescent  Camembert  mingle  with  your 
coffee.  As  to  beverages,  you  may,  if  you  choose,  follow  the 
example  of  Lord  Cross,  who,  when  he  was  Sir  Richard,  drank 
beer  in  its  native  pewter,  or  of  Mr.  Radcliffe  Cooke,  who 
tries  to  popularize  cider ;  or  you  may  venture  on  that  thickest, 
blackest,  and  most  potent  of  vintages  which  a  few  years  back 
still  went  by  the  name  of  "  Mr.  Disraeli's  port."  But  as  a 
rule  these  heroic  draughts  are  eschewed  by  the  modern 
Minister.  Perhaps,  if  he  is  in  good  spirits  after  making  a 
successful  speech  or  fighting  his  Estimates  through  Com- 
mittee, he  will  indulge  himself  with  an  imperial  pint  of 
champagne ;  but  more  often  a  whiskey-and-soda  or  a  half- 
bottle  of  Zeltinger  quenches  his  modest  thirst. 

On  Wednesday  and  Saturday  our  Minister,  if  he  is  not  out 
of  London,  probably  dines  at  a  large  dinner-party.  Once  a 
session  he  must  dine  in  full  dress  with  the  Speaker ;  once  he 
must  dine  at,  or  give,  a  full-dress  dinner  "  to  celebrate  her 


340      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

Majesty's  Birthday."  On  the  eve  of  the  meeting  of  Parlia- 
ment he  must  dine  again  in  full  dress  with  the  Leader  of  the 
House,  to  hear  the  rehearsal  of  the  "  gracious  Speech  from 
the  Throne."  But,  as  a  rule,  his  fate  on  Wednesday  and 
Saturday  is  a  ceremonious  banquet  at  a  colleague's  house, 
and  a  party  strictly  political — perhaps  the  Prime  Minister 
as  the  main  attraction,  reinforced  by  Lord  and  Lady 
Decimus  Tite-Barnacle,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stiltstalking,  Sir 
John  Taper,  and  young  Mr.  Tadpole.  A  political 
dinner  of  thirty  colleagues,  male  and  female,  in  the  dog- 
days  is  only  a  shade  less'  intolerable  than  the  greasy 
rations  and  mephitic  vapours  of  the  House  of  Commons' 
dining-room. 

At  the  political  dinner  "  shop  "  is  the  order  of  the  day. 
Conversation  turns  on  Brown's  successful  speech,  Jones's 
palpable  falling-off,  Robinson's  chance  of  office,  the  expla- 
nation of  a  recent  by-election,  or  the  prospects  of  an  impend- 
ing division.  And,  to  fill  the  cup  of  boredom  to  the  brim, 
the  political  dinner  is  usually  followed  by  a  political  evening- 
party.  On  Saturday  the  Minister  probably  does  two  hours' 
work  at  his  office  and  has  some  boxes  sent  to  his  house,  but 
the  afternoon  he  spends  in  cycling,  or  golfing,  or  riding, 
or  boating,  or  he  leaves  London  till  Monday  morning.  On 
Wednesday  he  is  at  the  House  till  six,  and  then  escapes 
for  a  breath  of  air  before  dinner.  But  on  Monday,  Tuesday, 
Thursday,  and  Friday,  as  a  rule,  he  is  at  the  House  from  its 
meeting  at  three  till  it  adjourns  at  any  hour  after  midnight. 
After  dinner  he  smokes  and  reads  and  tries  to  work  in  his 
room,  and  goes  to  sleep  and  wakes  again,  and  towards  mid- 
night is  unnaturally  lively.  Outsiders  believe  in  the  "twelve 
o'clock  rule,"  but  insiders  know  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
it  is  suspended  as  often  as  an  Irish  member  in  the  '80 
Parliament.  Whoever  else  slopes  homewards,  the  Govern- 
ment must  stay.  Before  now  a  Minister  has  been  fetched 
out  of  his  bed,  to  which  he  had  surreptitiously  retired,  by  a 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      341 

messenger  in  a  hansom,  and  taken  back  to  the  House  to 
defend  his  Estimates  at  three  in  the  morning. 

"  There  they  sit  with  ranks  unbroken,  cheering  on  the  fierce  debate, 
Till  the  sunrise  lights  them  homeward  as  they  tramp  through  Storey's 

Gate, 
Racked  with  headache,  pale  and  haggard,  worn  by  nights  of  endless 

talk. 
While  the  early  sparrows  twitter  all  along  the  Birdcage  Walk." 

Some  ardent  souls  there  are  who,  if  report  speaks  true, 
are  not  content  with  even  this  amount  of  exertion  and 
excitement,  but  finish  the  night,  or  begin  the  day,  with  a 
rubber  at  the  club  or  even  a  turn  at  baccarat.  However, 
we  are  describing,  not  choice  spirits  or  chartered  viveurs, 
but  the  blameless  Minister,  whose  whole  life  during  the 
Parliamentary  session  is  the  undeviating  and  conscientious 
discharge  of  official  duty  ;  and  he,  when  he  lays  his  head 
upon  his  respectable  pillow  any  time  after  i  a.m.,  may  surely 
go  to  sleep  in  the  comfortable  consciousness  that  he  has 
done  a  fair  day's  work  for  a  not  exorbitant  remuneration. 


XXXIV. 

AN  OLD  PHOTOGRAPH-BOOK. 

HTHE  diary  from  which  these  Recollections  have  been 
■*-  mainly  gathered  dates  from  my  thirteenth  year,  and 
it  has  lately  received  some  unexpected  illustrations. 
In  turning  out  the  contents  of  a  neglected  cupboard,  I 
stumbled  on  a  photograph-book  which  I  filled  while  I  was 
a  boy  at  a  Public  School.  The  school  has  lately  been 
described  under  the  name  of  Lyonness,*  and  that  name  will 
serve  as  well  as  another.  The  book  had  been  mislaid  years 
ago,  and  when  it  accidentally  came  to  light  a  strange  aroma 
of  old  times  seemed  still  to  hang  about  it.  Inside  and  out, 
it  was  reminiscent  of  a  life  in  which  for  five  happy  years  I 
bore  my  part.  Externally  the  book  showed  manifest  traces 
of  a  schoolboy's  ownership,  in  broken  corners ;  plentiful  ink- 
stains,  from  exercises  and  punishments ;  droppings  of  illicit 
candle  grease,  consumed  long  after  curfew-time ;  round  marks 
like  fairy  rings  on  a  greensward,  wkich  indicated  the  stand- 
point of  extinct  jam  pots — where  are  those  jam  pots  now  ? 
But,  while  the  outside  of  the  book  spoke  thus,  as  it  were, 
by  innuendo  and  suggestion,  the  inside  seemed  to  shout 
with  joyous  laughter  or  chuckle  with  irreverent  mirth  ;  or 
murmured,  in  tones  lower  perhaps,  but  certainly  not  less 
distinct,  of  things  which  were  neither  joyous  nor  mirthful. 

*  In  School  and  Home  Life,  by  T.  G.  Rooper,  M.A. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      343 

The  book  had  been  carefully  arranged.  As  I  turned  over 
the  leaves,  there  came  back  the  memory  of  holiday-evenings 
and  the  interested  questionings  of  sisters  over  each  new  face 
or  scene;  and  the  kind  fingers  which  did  the  pasting-in; 
and  ihe  care  with  which  we  made  portrait  and  landscape  fit 
into  and  illustrate  one  another.  And  what  memories,  what 
impressions,  strong  and  clear  as  yesterday's,  clung  to  each 
succeeding  view !  The  Spire — that  "  pinnacle  perched  on  a 
precipice  " — with  its  embosoming  trees,  as  one  had  so  often 
seen  it  from  the  North- Western  Railway,  while  the  finger  of 
fate,  protruding  from  the  carriage  window,  pointed  it  out 
with — "That's  where  you  will  go  to  school."  And,  years 
later,  came  the  day  when  one  travelled  for  the  first  time  by 
a  train  which  did  not  rush  through  Lyonness  Station  (then 
how  small),  but  stopped  there,  and  disgorged  its  crowd  of 
boys  and  their  confusion  of  luggage,  and  oneself  among  the 
rest,  and  one's  father  just  as  excited  and  anxious  and  eager 
as  his  son. 

A  scurry  for  a  seat  on  the  omnibus  or  a  tramp  uphill,  and 
we  find  ourselves  abruptly  in  the  village  street.  Then  did 
each  page  as  I  turned  it  over  bring  some  fresh  recollection 
of  one's  unspeakable  sense  of  newness  and  desolation  ;  the 
haunting  fear  of  doing  something  ludicrous  ;  the  morbid 
dread  of  chaff  and  of  being  "greened,"  which  even  in  my 
time  had,  happily,  supplanted  the  old  terrors  of  being  tossed 
in  a  blanket  or  roasted  at  a  fire.  Even  less,  I  venture  to 
think,  was  one  thrilled  by  the  heroic  ambitions,  the  magni- 
ficent visions  of  struggle  and  success,  which  stir  the  heroes 
of  schoolboy  novels  on  the  day  of  their  arrival. 

Here  was  a  view  of  the  School  Library,  with  its  patch  of 
greensward  separating  it  from  the  dust  and  traffic  of  the 
road.  There  was  the  Old  School  with  its  Fourth  Form 
Room,  of  which  one  had  heard  so  much  that  the  actual 
sight  of  it  made  one  half  inclined  to  laugh  and  half  to  cry 
with  surprise  and  disappointment.     There  was  the  twisting 


344      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

High  Street,  with  its  precipitous  causeway;  there  was  the 
faithful  presentment  of  the  fashionable  "  tuck-shop,"  vith 
two  boys  standing  in  the  road,  and  the  leg  of  a  third  caught 
by  the  camera  as  he  hurried  past ;  and,  wandering  through 
all  these  scenes  in  the  album  as  one  had  wandered  through 
them  in  real  life,  I  reached  at  last  my  boarding-house,  once 
a  place  of  mystery  and  wonderful  expectations  and  untried 
experiences ;  now  full  of  memories,  some  bright,  some  sad, 
but  all  gathering  enchantment  from  their  retrospective  dis- 
tance; and  in  every  brick  and  beam  and  cupboard  and 
corner  as  familiar  as  home  itself. 

The  next  picture,  a  view  of  the  School  Bathing-place, 
carried  me  a  stage  onward  in  memory  to  my  first  summer 
quarter.  Two  terms  of  school  life  had  inured  one  to  a  new 
existence,  and  one  began  to  know  the  pleasures,  as  well  as 
the  pains,  of  a  Public  School.  It  was  a  time  of  cloudless 
skies,  and  abundant  "  strawberry  mashes,"  and  dolce  far 
niente  in  that  sweetly-shaded  pool,  when  the  sky  was  at  its 
bluest,  and  the  air  at  its  hottest,  and  the  water  at  its  most 
inviting  temperature. 

And  then  the  Old  Speech-Room,  so  ugly,  so  incommodious, 
where  we  stood  penned  together  like  sheep  for  the  slaughter, 
under  the  gallery,  to  hear  our  fate  on  the  first  morning  of 
our  school  life,  and  where,  when  he  had  made  his  way  up 
the  school,  the  budding  scholar  received  his  prize  or  de- 
claimed his  verses  on  Speech  Day.  That  was  the  crowning 
day  of  the  young  orator's  ambition,  when  there  was  an  arch 
of  evergreens  reared  over  the  school  gate,  and  Lyonness  was 
all  alive  with  carriages,  and  relations,  and  grandees, 

'*  And,  as  Lear,  he  poured  forth  the  deep  imprecation, 
By  his  daughters  of  Kingdom  and  reason  deprived  ; 
Till,  fired  by  loud  plaudits  and  self-adulation, 
He  regarded  himself  as  a  Garrick  re%'ived." 

Opposite  the  Old  Speech- Room  was  the  interior  of  the 
Chapel,  with  its  roof  still  echoing  the  thunder  of  the  Parting 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      345 

Hymn;  and  the  pulpit  with  its  unforgotten  pleadings  for 
truthfulness  and  purity  ;  and  the  organ,  still  vocal  with  those 
glorious  psalms.  And,  high  over  all,  the  Churchyard  Hill, 
with  its  heaven-pointing  spire,  and  the  Poet's  Tomb ;  and, 
below,  the  incomparable  expanse  of  pasture  and  woodland 
stretching  right  away  to  the  "proud  keep  with  its  double 
belt  of  kindred  and  coeval  towers." 

"  Still  does  yon  bank  its  living  hues  unfold, 
With  bloomy  wealth  of  amethyst  and  gold  ; 
How  oft  at  eve  we  watched,  while  there  we  lay, 
The  flaming  sun  lead  down  the  dying  day, 
Soothed  by  the  breeze  that  wandered  to  and  fro 
Through  the  glad  foliage  musically  low. 
Still  stands  that  tree,  and  rears  its  stately  form 
In  rugged  strength,  and  mocks  the  winter  storm  ; 
There,  while  of  slender  shade  and  sapling  growth, 
We  carved  our  schoolboy  names,  a  mutual  troth. 
All,  all,  revives  a  bliss  too  bright  to  last. 
And  every  leaflet  whispers  of  the  past." 

And  while  the  views  of  places  were  thus  eloquent  of  the 
old  days,  assuredly  not  less  so  were  the  portraits.  There 
was  the  Head  Master  in  his  silken  robes,  looking  exactly  as 
he  did  when,  enthroned  in  the  Sixth  Form  Room,  he  used 
to  deliver  those  well-remembered  admonitions — "  Never  say 
what  you  know  to  be  wrong,"  and  "  Let  us  leave  commence 
and  partake  to  the  newspapers." 

And  there  was  the  Mathematical  Master — the  Rev..Rhada- 
manthus  Rhomboid — compared  with  whom  his  classical 
namesake  was  a  lenient  judge.  An  admirable  example  was 
old  Mr.  Rhomboid  of  a  pedagogic  type  which,  I  am  told, 
is  passing  away — precise,  accurate,  stern,  solid;  knowing 
very  little,  but  that  little  thoroughly ;  never  overlooking  a 
slip,  but  seldom  guilty  of  an  injustice;  sternest  and  most 
unbending  of  prehistoric  Tories,  both  in  matters  political 
and  educational ;  yet  carrying  concealed  somewhere  under 
the  square-cut  waistcoat  a  heart  which  knew  how  to  sym- 
pathize with  boy-flesh  and  the   many  ills   which   it  is  heir 


346     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

to.     Good   old    Mr.    Rhomboid!     I  wonder  if  he  is   aiill 
alive.  / 

Facing  him  in  the  album,  and  most  appropriately  (Con- 
trasted, was  the  portrait  of  a  young  master — the  embodiment 
of  all  that  Mr.  Rhomboid  most  heartily  loathed.  We  will 
call  him  Vivian  Grey.  Vivian  Grey  was  an  Oxford  Double 
First  of  unusual  brilliancy,  and  therefore  found  a  special 
charm  and  a  satisfying  sense  of  being  suitably  employed 
in  his  duty  at  Lyonness,  which  was  to  instil  tvtttw  and 
Phaedrus  into  the  five-and- thirty  little  wiseacres  who  con- 
stituted the  lowest  form.  Over  the  heads  of  these  sages  his 
political  and  metaphysical  utterances  rolled  like  harmless 
thunder,  for  he  was  at  once  a  transcendentalist  in  philosophy 
and  a  utilitarian  Radical  of  the  purest  dye.  All  of  which 
mattered  singularly  little  to  his  five-and-thirty  disciples,  but 
caused  infinite  commotion  and  annoyance  to  the  Rhomboids 
and  Rhadamanthuses.  Vivian  Grey  at  Oxford  had  belonged 
to  that  school  which  has  been  described  as  professing 

"One  Kant  with  a  K, 
And  many,  a  cant  with  a  c." 

At  Lyonness  he  was  supposed  to  have  helped  to  break  the 
railings  of  Hyde  Park  in  the  riot  of  l866,  and  to  be  a  Head 
Centre  of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood.  As  to  personal  appear- 
ance, Mr.  Grey  was  bearded  like  the  pard — and  in  those 
days  the  scholastic  order  shaved — while  his  taste  in  dress 
made  it  likely  that  he  was  the  "  Man  in  the  Red  Tie  "  whom 
we  remember  at  the  Oxford  Commemoration  some  thirty 
years  ago.  In  short,  he  was  the  very  embodiment  of  all 
that  was  most  abhorrent  to  the  old  traditions  of  the  school- 
master's profession ;  and  proportionately  great  was  the  ap- 
positeness  of  a  practical  joke  which  was  played  me  on  my 
second  or  third  morning  at  Lyonness.  I  was  told  to  go  for 
my  mathematical  lesson  to  Mr.  Rhomboid,  who  tenanted  a 
room  in  the  Old  School.     Next  door  to  his  room  was  Mr. 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      347 

Grey's,  and  I  need  not  say  that  the  first  boy  whom  I  asked 
for  guidance  playfully  directed  me  to  the  wrong  door.  I 
enter,  and  the  Third  Form  suspend  their  Phaedrus.  "  Please, 
sir,  are  you  Mr.  Rhomboid  ? "  I  ask,  amid  unsmotherable 
laughter.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  indignant  ferocity  with 
which  the  professor  of  the  new  lights  drove  me  from  the 
room,  nor  the  tranquil  austerity  with  which  Mr.  Rhomboid, 
when  I  reached  him,  set  me  "  fifty  lines "  before  he  asked 
me  my  name. 

On  the  same  page  I  find  the  portrait  of  two  men  who  have 
before  now  figured  in  the  world  of  school-fiction  under  the 
names  of  Rose  and  Gordon.*  Of  Mr.  Rose  I  will  say  no 
more  than  that  he  was  an  excellent  schoolmaster  and  a  most 
true  saint,  and  that  to  his  influence  and  warnings  many  a 
man  can,  in  the  long  retrospect,  trace  his  escape  from  moral 
ruin.  Mr.  Gordon  is  now  a  decorous  Dean  ;  at  Lyonness  he 
was  the  most  brilliant,  the  most  irregular,  and  the  most  fasci- 
nating of  teachers.  He  spoilt  me  for  a  whole  quarter.  I 
loved  him  for  it  then,  and  I  thank  him  even  now. 

These  more  distinguished  portraits,  of  cabinet  dimensions, 
were  scattered  up  and  down  among  the  miscellaneous  herd 
of  cartes  de  visite.  The  art  of  Messrs.  Hills  and  SaundeVs 
was  denoted  by  the  pretentious  character  of  the  chairs  in- 
troduced— the  ecclesiastical  Glastonbury  for  masters,  and 
velvet  backs  studded  with  gilt  nails  for  boys.  The  produc- 
tions of  the  rival  photographer  were  distinguished  by  a  pillar 
of  variegated  marble,  or  possibly  scagliola,  on  which  the 
person  portrayed  leaned,  bent,  or  propped  himself  in  every 
phase  of  graceful  discomfort.  The  athletes  and  members  of 
the  School  Eleven,  dressed  in  appropriate  flannel,  were  de- 
picted as  a  rule  with  their  arms  crossed  over  the  backs  of 
chairs,  and  brought  very  much  into  focus  so  as  to  display  the 
muscular  development  in  high  relief.  The  more  studious 
portion  of  the  community,  "  with  leaden  eye  that  loved  the 
*  In  Eric,  by  F.  W.  Farrar,  D.D. 


348      COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

ground,"  scanned  small  photograph-books  with  absorbing 
interest ;  while  a  group  of  editors,  of  whom  I  was  one,  were 
gathered  round  a  writing-table,  with  pens,  ink,  and  paper, 
the  finger  pressed  on  the  forehead,  and  on  the  floor  proofs 
of  the  journal  which  we  edited — was  it  the  Tyro  or  the 
Triumvirate  ? 

Among  the  athletes  I  instantly  recognize  Biceps  Max., 
captain  of  the  Cricket  Eleven,  and  practically  autocrat  of  my 
house — "  Charity's "  the  house  was  called,  in  allusion  to  a 
prominent  feature  of  my  tutor's  character.  Well,  at  Charity's 
we  did  not  think  much  of  intellectual  distinction  in  those 
days,  and  little  recked  that  Biceps  was  "  unworthy  to  be 
classed  "  in  the  terminal  examination.  We  were  much  more 
concerned  with  the  fact  that  he  made  the  highest  score  at 
Lord's;  that  we  at  Charity's  were  absolutely  under  his 
thumb,  in  the  most  literal  acceptation  of  that  phrase;  that  he 
beat  us  into  mummies  if  we  evaded  cricket-fagging ;  and  that 
if  we  burnt  his  toast  he  chastised  us  with  a  tea-tray.  Where 
is  Biceps  now,  and  what  ?  If  he  took  Orders,  I  am  sure  he 
must  be  a  muscular  Christian  of  the  most  aggressive  type. 
If  he  is  an  Old  Bailey  barrister,  I  pity  the  timid  witness 
whom  he  cross-examines.  Why  do  I  never  meet  him  at  the 
club  or  in  society  ?  It  would  be  a  refreshing  novelty  to  sit 
at  dinner  opposite  a  man  who  corrected  your  juvenile  short- 
comings with  a  tea-tray.  Would  he  attempt  it  again  if  I 
contradicted  him  in  conversation,  or  confuted  him  in  argu- 
ment, or  capped  his  best  story  with  a  better? 

Next  comes  Longbow — Old  Longbow,  as  we  called  him ; 
I  suppose  as  a  term  of  endearment,  for  there  was  no  Young 
Longbow.  He  was  an  Irishman,  and  the  established  wit, 
buffoon,  and  jester  of  the  school,  Innumerable  stories  are 
still  told  of  his  youthful  escapades,  of  his  audacity  and  skill 
in  cribbing,  of  his  dexterity  in  getting  out  of  scrapes,  of  his 
repartees  to  masters  and  persons  in  authority.  He  it  was 
who  took  up  the  same  exercise  in  algebra  to  Mr.  Rhomboid 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      349 

all  the  time  he  was  in  the  Sixth  Form,  and  obtained  marks, 
ostensibly  for  a  French  exercise,  with  a  composition  called 
De  Cafuelo  qualis  sit.  He  alone  of  created  boys  could  joke 
in  the  rarefied  air  of  the  Head  Master's  schoolroom,  and 
had  power  to  "  chase  away  the  passing  frown "  with  some 
audacious  witticism  for  which  an  English  boy  would  have 
been  punished.  Longbow  was  ploughed  three  times  at 
Oxford,  and  once  "  sent  down."  But  he  is  now  the  very 
orthodox  vicar  of  a  West  End  parish,  a  preacher  of  culture, 
and  a  pattern  of  ecclesiastical  propriety.  Then,  leaving 
these  heroic  figures  and  coming  to  my  own  contemporaries, 
I  discern  little  Paley,  esteemed  a  prodigy  of  parts — Paley, 
who  won  an  Entrance  Scholarship  while  still  in  knicker- 
bockers ;  Paley,  who  ran  up  the  school  faster  than  any  boy 
on  record ;  Paley,  who  was  popularly  supposed  never  to 
have  been  turned  in  a  "  rep "  or  to  have  made  a  false 
quantity ;  Paley,  for  whom  his  tutor  and  the  whole  magis- 
terial body  were  never  tired  of  predicting  a  miraculous 
success  in  after  life.  Poor  Paley !  He  is  at  this  moment 
languishing  in  Lincoln's  Inn,  consoling  himself  for  pro- 
fessional failure  by  contemplating  the  largest  extant  collec- 
tion of  Lyonness  prize-books.  I  knew  Paley,  as  boys  say, 
"  at  home,"  and,  when  he  had  been  a  few  years  at  the  Bar, 
I  asked  his  mother  if  he  had  got  any  briefs  yet.  "Yes," 
she  answered  with  maternal  pride ;  "  he  has  been  very  lucky 
in  that  way."  "  And  has  he  got  a  verdict  ?  "  I  asked,  "  Oh, 
no,"  replied  the  simple  soul ;  "  we  don't  aspire  to  anything 
so  grand  as  that." 

Next  to  Paley  in  my  book  is  Roderick  Random,  the 
cricketer.  Dear  Random,  my  contemporary,  my  form- 
fellow  and  house-fellow ;  partaker  with  me  in  the  ignominy 
of  Biceps's  tea-tray  and  the  tedium  of  Mr.  Rhomboid's 
problems ;  my  sympathetic  companion  in  every  amusement, 
and  the  pleasant  drag  on  every  intellectual  effort — Random, 
who  never  knew  a  lesson,  nor  could  answer  a  question  ; 


350     COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS. 

who  never  could  get  up  in  time  for  First  School,  nor  lay  his 
hand  on  his  own  Virgil — Random,  who  spent  more  of  his 
half-holidays  in  Extra  School  than  any  boy  of  his  day,  and 
had  acquired  by  long  practice  the  power  of  writing  the 
"record"  number  of  lines  in  an  hour;  who  never  told  a 
lie,  nor  bullied  a  weaker  boy,  nor  dropped  an  unkind  jest, 
nor  uttered  a  shameful  word — Random,  for  whom  every  one 
in  authority  prophesied  ruin,  speedy  and  inevitable  ;  who  is, 
therefore,  the  best  of  landlords  and  the  most  popular  of 
country  gentlemen ;  who  was  the  most  popular  officer  in 
the  Guards  till  duty  called  him  elsewhere,  and  at  the  last 
election  came  in  at  the  top  of  the  poll  for  his  native  county. 

Then  what  shall  we  say  for  Lucian  Gay,  whose  bright 
eyes  and  curly  hair  greet  me  on  the  same  page,  with  the 
attractive  charm  which  won  me  when  we  stood  together 
under  the  Speech-Room  gallery  on  the  first  morning  of  our 
school  life  ?  Gay  was  often  at  the  top  of  his  form,  yet  some- 
times near  the  bottom;  wrote,  apparently  by  inspiration, 
the  most  brilliant  verses  ;  and  never  could  put  two  and  two 
together  in  Mr.  Rhomboid's  schoolroom.  He  had  the  most 
astonishing  memory  on  record,  and  an  inventive  faculty 
which  often  did  him  even  better  service.  He  was  the  soul 
of  every  intellectual  enterprise  in  the  school,  the  best  speaker 
at  the  Debating  Society ;  the  best  performer  on  Speech 
Day ;  who  knew  nothing  about  yc  and  less  about  /x€v  and 
8e ;  who  composed  satirical  choruses  when  he  should  have 
been  taking  notes  on  Tacitus ;  edited  a  School  Journal  with 
surprising  brilliancy ;  failed  to  conjugate  the  verbs  in  /xi 
during  his  last  fortnight  in  the  school ;  and  won  the  Balliol 
Scholarship  when  he  was  seventeen.  I  trust,  if  this  meets 
his  eye,  he  will  accept  it  as  a  tribute  of  affectionate  recollec- 
tion from  one  who  worked  with  him,  idled  with  him,  and 
joked  with  him  for  five  happy  years. 

Under  another  face,  marked  by  a  more  spiritual  grace,  I 
find  written  Reqiiiescat,     None  who  ever  knew  them  will 


COLLECTIONS  AND  RECOLLECTIONS.      351 

forget  that  bright  and  pure  beauty,  those  eyes  of  strange, 
supernatural  light,  that  voice  which  thrilled  and  vibrated 
with  an  unearthly  charm.  All  who  were  his  contemporaries 
remember  that  dauntless  courage,  that  heroic  virtue,  that 
stainless  purity  of  thought  and  speech,  before  which  all  evil 
things  seemed  to  shrink  away  abashed.  We  remember  how 
the  outward  beauty  of  body  seemed  only  the  visible  symbol 
of  a  goodness  which  dwelt  within,  and  how  moral  and  intel- 
lectual excellence  grew  up  together,  blending  into  a  perfect 
whole.  We  remember  the  School  Concert,  and  the  enchant- 
ing voice,  and  the  words  of  the  song  which  afterwards 
sounded  like  a  warning  prophecy,  and  the  last  walk  together 
in  the  gloaming  of  a  June  holiday,  and  the  loving,  trusting 
companionship,  and  the  tender  talk  of  home.  And  then  for 
a  day  or  two  we  missed  the  accustomed  presence,  and  dimly 
caught  a  word  of  dangerous  illness ;  and  then  came  the 
agony  of  the  parting  scene,  and  the  clear,  hard,  pitiless 
school  bell,  cutting  on  our  hearts  the  sense  of  an  irreparable 
loss,  as  it  thrilled  through  the  sultry  darkness  of  the  summer 
night. 

Here  I  shut  the  book.  And  with  the  memories  which 
that  picture  called  up  I  may  well  bring  these  Recollections 
to  a  close.  It  is  something  to  remember,  amid  the  bustle 
and  bitterness  of  active  life,  that  one  once  had  youth,  and 
hope,  and  eagerness,  and  large  opportunities,  and  generous 
friends.  A  tender  and  regretful  sentiment  seems  to  cling  to 
the  very  walls  and  trees  among  which  one  cherished  such 
bright  ambitions  and  felt  the  passionate  sympathy  of  such 
loving  hearts.  The  innocence  and  the  confidence  of  boy- 
hood pass  away  soon  enough,  and  thrice  happy  is  he  who  has 
contrived  to  keep 

"The  young  lamb's  heart  amid  the  full-grown  flocks." 


TRAITS    DE    MCEURS    ANGLAISES. 
Jean  La  Frette. 


De  ce  cote  de  la  Manche  nous  avons  une  specialite  de 
souvenirs  militaires,  et  le  public  parait  prendre  gout  a  ce 
genre  de  lectures.  De  I'autre  cote,  les  souvenirs  sont  plutot 
d'ordre  politique  ou  litteraire.  lis  n'en  sont  pas  moins 
interessants.  Apres  tout,  les  recits  de  massacres  et  de 
saccages  se  ressemblent  beaucoup,  qu'ils  soient  d'Herodote 
ou  de  Canrobert :  et  meme  il  ne  semble  pas  que  le  genre 
soit  en  progres,  si  Ton  compare  les  termes  extremes  de  la 
serie.  Car  Herodote  vit  autre  chose  que  les  tueries,  et  il  Ten 
faut  feliciter. 

II  y  a  une  autre  difference  entre  les  deux  groupes  de 
memoires  en  question.  Les  notres  ont  trait  pour  la  plupart 
a  une  epoque  que  beaucoup  de  gens  considerent  comme  un 
apogee,  de  sorte  que,  pour  le  lecteur,  ils  apportent  plutot  un 
sentiment  de  decouragement.  "Voila  ce  qu'ils  firent,"  se 
dit-il :  "  et  nous  ?  .  .  ."  Car  ce  qu'on  est  convenu  d'appeler 
"les  gloires"  napoleoniennes  du  debut  du  siecle  ne  suffit 
pas,  helas,  h  effacer  la  tache — non  moins  napoleonienne — de 
1870.  Ce  sentiment,  le  lecteur  anglais  ne  I'eprouve  pas 
a  lire  les  memoires  qui  lui  sont  offerts,  et  qui,  s'ils  ne  ra- 
content  pas,  d'habitude,  des  exploits  guerriers,  relatent  les 
phases  principales  d'une  lente  evolution,  d'un  progres  tr^s  reel 


354  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES. 

dans  les  mceurs,  dans  la  culture  et  dans  I'amelioration  sociale 
generale. 

Quel  etait  I'auteur  du  plus  recent  volume  de  souvenirs, 
Colleciions  ajid  RecoUectiotis,  public  par  MM.  Smith,  Elder 
et  C'^  a  Londres,  on  I'ignora  quelques  semaines.  Mainte- 
nant  il  n'y  a  plus  de  doute  :  I'auteur  s'est  fait  connaitre ;  c'est 
M.  G.  W.  E.  Russell.  Sa  personnalite  importait  assez  peu 
d'ailleurs :  car  ce  n'est  lui-meme  qu'il  raconte :  ce  sont  ses 
contemporains  et  les  faits  dont  il  a  ete  temoin.  Mais  M. 
Russell  est  un  homme  de  culture,  qui  a  beaucoup  approche 
de  notabilites  politiques  et  litteraires,  et  a  su  les  ecouter 
parler,  saisissant  plus  volontiers  le  cote  humoristique  ou 
anecdotique  de  leurs  propos.  Son  livre  est  amusant  et 
instructif  k  la  fois :  et  il  met  bien  en  lumiere,  dans  les 
premiers  chapitres  en  particulier,  revolution  dont  il  etait 
parle  plus  haut,  la  transformation  graduelle  que  les  moeurs 
anglaises  ont  subie  depuis  le  commencement  du  siecle. 

Ce  n'est  point  que  I'auteur  soit  centenaire,  d'ailleurs.  II 
nous  le  dit  expressement :  ses  souvenirs  personnels  remontent 
k  1856  seulemeiit :  mais  il  a  beaucoup  vu  de  vieilles  gens, 
il  a  pris  note  de  leurs  recits,  et  c'est  par  ces  r^cits  qu'il  est 
facile  de  mesurer  le  chemin  parcouru. 

lis  confirment  ce  qu'on  savait  deja  de  la  grossierete  des 
moeurs  a  une  epoque  encore  recente.  Du  reste  I'exemple 
venait  de  haut,  et  la  famille  royale  ne  pouvait  en  imposer  ni 
par  la  tenue,  ni  par  la  moralite. 

Le  prince  de  Galles,  raconte  Lord  Seymour,  dans  des 
memoires  inedits,  le  prince  de  Galles  assure — et  doit  s'y 
connaitre — "  qu'il  n'y  a  pas  une  honnete  femme  a  Londres, 
excepte  Lady  Parker  et  Lady  Westmorland :  et  encore  sont- 
elles  si  bdtes  qu'on  n'en  peut  rien  tirer :  tout  au  plus  sont- 
elles  capables  de  se  moucher  elles-memes."  A  la  reception 
de  M""'  Vaneck,  la  semaine  derniere  [ceci  se  passe  en  1788], 
le  prince  de  Galles,  a  I'honneur  de  la  politesse  et  de  I'ele- 
gance  de  ses  manieres,  mesura  la  largeur  de  M™®  V par 


TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES.  355 

derriere  avec  son  mouchoir,  et  alia  montrer  les  dimensions 
a  presque  tous  ceux  qui  etaient  la.  Un  autre  trait  de  la 
conduite  respectueuse  du  prince :  a  cette  meme  assemblee 
il  a  fait  signe  a  la  pauvre  vieille  duchesse  de  Bedford  a  travers 
une  grande  salle,  et  apres  qu'elle  eut  pris  la  peine  de  tra- 
verser cette  derniere,  il  lui  dit  brusquement  n'avoir  rien  a  lui 
communiquer.  Le  prince  a  rendu  visite  la  semaine  derniere 
a  M"®  Vaneck,  avec  deux  de  ses  ecuyers.  En  entrant  dans 
la  salle  il  s'est  exclame  :  "  II  faut  que  je  le  fasse :  il  le 
faut  .  .  ."  M"^  V-— — •  lui  a  demande  ce  qu'il  etait  oblige 
de  faire,  et  la-dessus  il  a  jete  un  clignement  d'ceil  a  St.  Leger 

et  a  I'autre  complice  qui  ont  couche  M"^  V a  terre,  et 

le  prince  I'a  positivement  fouettee  .  .  . 

C'etait  le  resultat  d'un  pari.  Mais  M"®  Vaneck  avait 
quelque  habitude  des  "  jeux  de  rois  "  :  le  prince  fit  penitence 
le  lendemain,  et  elle  ne  lui  en  voulut  point.  Autre  aimable 
fantaisie  du  prince  :  il  regoit  le  due  d'Orleans,  accompagne 
de  son  frere  naturel,  I'abbe  de  la  Fai  (?).  L'abb^  pretend 
avoir  un  secret  pour  charmer  les  poissons  :  d'ou  le  pari,  a  la 
suite  duquel  I'abbe  s'approche  de  I'eau  pour  chatouiller  un 
poisson  avec  une  baguette.  Se  mefiant  toutefois  du  prince, 
qu'il  connaissait  sans  doute  de  reputation,  il  dit  qu'il  espere 
bien  que  celui-ci  ne  lui  jouera  pas  le  tour  de  le  jeter  a  I'eau. 
Le  prince  de  protester  et  de  donner  "  sa  parole  d'honneur." 
L'abbe  commence  a  se  pencher  sur  un  petit  pont  et  le  prince 
aussitot  le  saisit  et  le  fait  culbuter  h  I'eau,  d'oi!i  I'abbe  se  tire 
non  sans  peine,  et  non  sans  colere,  car  il  court  sur  le  prince 
avec  un  fouet  pour  le  corriger,  declarant  a  qui  veut  I'entendre 
ce  qu'il  pense  d'un  prince  incapable  de  tenir  parole.  Les 
practical  jokers  de  ce  genre  n'etaient  pas  rares :  le  due 
de  Cumberland  fit  partager  le  meme  sort  a  une  jeune  fille 
qui  servait  de  dame  de  compagnie.  Les  "  grands "  s'a- 
musent.  ... 

lis  ont  d'autres  manieres  de  s'amuser :  le  jeu,  la  boisson, 
et  le  reste,  qui  sont  de  tous  les  temps  et  de  tous  les.  pays : 


356  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES. 

I'histoire  de  France  en  peut  temoigner  autant  que  celle  de 
n'importe  quelle  nation.  II  faut  croire  que  ces  plaisirs  sont 
les  plus  appropries  k  la  caste  oisive  et  riche,  k  qui  il  a  suffi 
de  naitre  pour  etre — ou  paraitre — quelque  chose.  Au  reste, 
il  n'y  aurait  guere  k  s'en  plaindre  :  ils  font  office  d'agents  de 
selection ;  ils  eliminent — dans  la  stdrilite  ou  imbecillite — des 
etres  imbeciles  et  malfaisants,  et  ils  remettent  en  circulation 
des  richesses  qui  n'ont  souvent  dte  accumulees  qu'k  coups 
de  rapines,  ou  par  une  perseverante  marche  dans  les  voies 
deshonnetes. 

Mais  ces  soi-disant  plaisirs  menent  de  fagon  tres  directe 
au  crime  :  c'est  la  une  notion  banale,  et  les  exemples  ne 
manquent  point. 

Le  due  de  Bedford — cinquieme  du  nom — ayant  perdu  de 
grosses  sommes  un  soir,  k  Newmarket,  incrimina  les  des,  les 
accusant  d'etre  pipes.  II  se  leva  de  table  en  colere,  saisit  les 
instruments  de  son  malheur,  et  les  emporta  pour  les  examiner 
a  loisir.  Rentre  chez  lui,  il  se  coucha,  pour  se  calmer, 
remettant  ses  investigations  au  lendemain.  Celles-ci  se  firent 
avec  le  concours  de  ses  compagnons,  et  il  dut  reconnaitre 
que  les  des  etaient  fort  orthodoxes.  Cela  le  surprit,  mais  il 
n'avait  qu'k  s'executer  et  c'est  ce  qu'il  fit :  il  adressa  des 
excuses,  et  paya.  Quelques  annees  apres,  un  des  joueurs 
qui  se  mourait  le  fit  appeler.  "  Je  vous  ai  prie  de  venir,"  dit- 
il,  "parce  que  je  voulais  vous  dire  que  vous  etiez  dans  le 
vrai.  Les  des  etaient  effectivement  pipes.  Mais  nous 
attendimes  que  vous  fussiez  couche :  nous  nous  sommes 
glisses  dans  votre  chambre,  et  aux  des  pipes  que  vous  aviez 
emportes  nous  avons  substitue  qui  ne  I'etaient  point,  et  nous 
les  avons  places  dans  votre  poche."  "  Mais  si  je  m'etais 
eveille,  et  si  je  vous  avais  pris  sur  le  fait  ?  .  .  ."  "  Eh  bien  ! 
nous  etions  decides  a  tout  .  .  .  et  nous  avions  des  pistolets." 

La  seule  action  meritoire  de  sa  vie,  disait  M.  Goldwin 
Smith. du  due  d'York,  c'est  de  I'avoir  une  fois  risquee  en 


TKAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISEIS.  357 

duel.  •  .  .  C'etait  maigre,  pour  un  prince  du  sang,  et  pour 
un  simple  particulier  aussi  bien.     Car  il  ne  la  perdit  point. 

La  delicatesse  est  tres  mediocre. 

William  et  John  Scott,  plus  tard  Lord  Stowell  et  Lord 
Eldon,  ayant  obtenu  quelque  succes  com  me  avocats,  dans 
leurs  jeunes  annees,  avaient  resolu  de  celebrer  I'evenement 
par  un  diner  a  la  taverne,  apres  quoi  Ton  irait  au  theatre. 
En  payant  I'addition,  William  laissa  tomber  une  guinee  que 
les  deux  freres  ne  purent  retrouver.  "  Mauvaise  affaire,"  fit 
William  :  "voilaqu'il  nous  faut  renoncer  au  theatre."  "Que 
non  pas,"  dit  John  :  "je  sais  une  tour  qui  vaut  mieux."  II 
appela  la  servante.  "  Betty,  nous  avons  perdu  deux  guinees  : 
voyez  done  si  vous  pouvez  les  retrouver."  Betty  se  met  a 
quatre  pattes  et  cherche  si  bien  qu'elle  retrouve  la  piece. 
"Bonne  fiUe,"  fait  William  :  "quand  vous  trouverez  I'autre, 
vous  pourrez  la  garder  pour  votre  peine."  Et  les  deux  freres 
s'en  furent  au  theatre,  et  plus  tard  aux  plus  hautes  dignites 
de  la  magistrature.  La  pauvre  Betty  a-t-elle  jamais  compris 
le  tour  ?  II  se  peut :  ce  n'est  point  par  la  delicatesse  et  les 
scrupules  que  se  distinguait  la  clientele  a  laquelle  elle  avait 
d'habitude  affaire. 

De  fagon  generale,  pourtant,'ce  monde  avait  un  certain 
courage  personnel. 

Le  cinquieme  comte  de  Berkeley  avait  dit  un  jour,  devant 
temoins,  qu'il  n'y  a  point  de  honte  a  etre  reduit  par  des 
adversaires,  quand  ceux-ci  I'emportent  par  le  nombre,  mais 
que,  pour  lui,  il  ne  se  rendrait  jamais  a  un  voleur  de  grand 
chemin  qui  I'attaquerait  seul. 

En  ce  temps  le  brigandage  etait  repandu.  Une  nuit  qu'il 
86  rendait  de  Berkeley  a  Londres,  sa  voiture  fut  arretee  par  un 
seigneur  de  grande  route  qui,  passant  sa  tete  a  la  portiere,  lui 
dit :  "  N'etes-vous  pas  Lord  Berkeley  ?  " 

"Certainement,"  repliqua  celui-ci. 


358  TRAFTS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES. 

"  C'est  bien  vous  qui  avez  declare  que  vous  ne  vous 
rendriez  jamais  a  un  voleur  de  grand  chemin  qui  vous- 
attaquerait  seul  ?  " 

"Parfaitement." 

"  Eh  bien  ! " — et  ce  disant  il  braquait  un  pistolet  sur  Lord 
Berkeley — "je  suis  un  de  ces  voleurs,  et  je  suis  seul;  je  vous 
demande  la  bourse  ou  la  vie." 

"  Chien  couard,"  crie  Lord  Berkeley,  "  crois-tu  done  me 
tromper?  Est-ce  que  je  ne  vois  pas  tes  complices  caches 
derriere  toi  ?  " 

Le  voleur  se  retourne,  surpris,  pour  voir  ces  complices 
qu'il  ignorait,  car  il  etait  reellement  seul,  et  dans  ce  moment 
Lord  Berkeley  lui  brule  la  cervelle. 

Courage,  et  surtout  presence  d'esprit.  Cette  anecdote  a 
ete  racontee  a  notre  auteur  par  la  propre  fille  de  Lord 
Berkeley. 

La  religion  n'inspirait  qu'un  mediocre  respect.  La  faute 
en  etait  en  partie  a  ses  representants,  en  partie  k  I'esprit 
general.  Un  pur  formalisme,  une  etiquette  mondaine,  telle 
elle  etait :  rien  de  plus.  Le  systeme  etait  commode ;  il  est 
reste  tel,  d'ailleurs,  et  non  pas  seulement  en  Angleterre. 

Le  mepris  des  choses  religieuses  etait  naturel,  et  I'exemple 
partait  de  haut.  Un  des  freres  du  roi,  le  due  de  Cambridge, 
s'etait  fait  une  specialite  dans  I'irreverence,  en  se  creant  pour 
lui  seul  une  liturgie,  et  en  repondant  personnellement  k 
I'officiant. 

"  Prions,"  disait  ce  dernier  a  la  congregation. 

" Certainement,"  faisait  observer  le  due;  "c'est  cela; 
prions." 

Le  clergyman  commenga.  Sans  doute,  la  saison  etait 
fort  seche,  car  il  demanda  d'abord  au  ciel  d'envoyer  de  la 
pluie.     Mais  le  due  I'interrompit : 

"  Inutile ;  rien  a  faire  pour  le  moment,  le  vent  est  k 
I'Est.  .  .  ." 

Le  service  continua  par  une  lecture  de  la  Bible.     "  Et 


TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES.  359 

Zacchee  se  leva  et  dit :  Vois,  Seigneur,  je  donne  la  moitie 
de  mes  biens  aux  pauvres  ..." 

"  Cast  trop,  c'est  beaucoup  trop,"  interrompit  le  due ; 
"  des  privileges,  si  vous  voulez,  mais  pas  le  reste." 

On  lit  les  commandements.  Le  due  les  eommente.  II 
en  est  deux  qui  le  genent : 

"C'est  tres  bien  dit;  mais  il  est  des  cas  ou  c'est  diable- 
ment  dififieile  d'obeir.  .  .  .  Ah !  pour  eelui-la,  non ;  e'est 
mon  frere  Ernest  qui  I'a  viole ;  eela  ne  me  regarde  pas." 

A  ce  troupeau  grossier,  et  mene  par  des  pasteurs  grossiers, 
on  chercherait  avee  peine  quelques  sentiments  eleves,  en 
dehors  du  courage  personnel.  C'est  quelque  chose  assure- 
ment :  mais  n'est-il  pas  infiniment  plus  deshonorant  de  ne 
I'avoir  point,  qu'il  n'est  honorable  de  I'avoir  ?  II  ne  semble 
pas  qu'il  y  ait  tant  a  vanter  la  possession  d'un  attribut  qu'il 
serait  degradant  de  ne  pas  posseder  :  e'est  une  vertu  negative. 
La  condition  du  peuple  etait  pitoyable  :  entre  le  status  des 
enfants  des  fabriques  et  I'esclavage,  il  etait  difficile  d'aperce- 
voir  une  difference.  A  Bedlam,  les  alienes  etaient  enehaines 
a  leurs  lits  de  paille,  en  1828,  et  du  samedi  au  lundi  ils 
etaient  abandonnes  a  eux-memes,  aVec  les  aliments  necessaires 
a  portee,  tandis  que  le  geolier  allait  s'amuser  au  dehors.  En 
1770,  il  y  avait  160  offenses  punies  de  la  peine  de  mort,  et  le 
nombre  s'en  etait  beaucoup  accru  au  commencement  de  ce 
siecle.  Le  vol  simple  appelait  la  peine  capitale,  et  pour  avoir 
vole  cinq  shillings  de  marchandises  dans  un  magasin,  e'etait 
la  corde.  En  1789,  on  brtilait  les  faux  monnayeurs. 
C'etaient  du  reste  des  rejouissances,  que  les  executions,  et 
pour  inculquer  a  la  jeunesse  des  sentiments  moraux,  on  con- 
duisait  des  eeoles  entieres  au  spectacle.  Ceci  se  passait  en- 
core en  1820.  Sur  le  chapitre  des  dettes,  la  loi  etait  feroce. 
Une  fernme  est  morte  dans  la  prison  d'Exeter  apres  quar  ante 
cinq  ans  d'inearceration,  cette  derniere  motivee  par  le  fait 
qu'elle  ne  pouvait  acquitter  une  dette  de  moins  de  500  francs 
.  .  .  Aussi  les  malheureux  qui  avaient  perdu  leur  avoir,  ou 


36o  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES. 

qui  ne  pouvaient  faire  face  k  leurs  engagements,  etaient-ils, 
pour  ainsi  dire,  jetes  dans  les  bras  du  crime.  Plutot  que 
d'aller  moisir  dans  les  cachots,  ils  prenaient  la  fuite,  et  comme 
il  faut  manger,  ils  demandaient  le  necessaire  a  la  societe.  Ils 
le  demandaient  de  fa^ons  varices  :  I'une  des  plus  repandues, 
et  qui  est  relativement  honorable,  consistait  a  se  faire  brigand 
de  grand  chemin.  Nombre  de  vaincus  de  la  vie  embras- 
serent  cette  carriere  oh  Ton  put  voir  des  gentlemen  ruines  et 
jusqu'k  un  prelat,  I'eveque  de  Raphoe.  Ils  avaient  beaucoup 
d'audace,  pillant  les  voitures  des  invites  a  peu  de  distance 
du  palais. 

Voilk  pour  le  passe. 

C'est  par  le  mouvement  religieux,  issu  d'Oxford  il  y  a 
bientot  soixante-dix  ans,  que  la  transformation  fut  operee. 
Par  le  mouvement  religieux,  qui  fut  admirable,  et  aussi  par  le 
mouvement  politique  0(1  la  Revolution  et  la  France  jouerent 
un  role  preponderant.  Ces  deux  facteurs  ont  puissamment 
contribue  a  remodeler  I'Angleterre. 

La  passion  politique  etait  vive  :-et  pendant  un  temps,  tout 
I'interet  se  concentra  sur  ce  qui  se  passait  en  France.  Tous 
les  esprits  qui  avaient  a  Coeur  la  liberie  civile  et  la  liberte 
religieuse,  tous  ceux  que  I'imperitie  et  la  suffisance  de  la  classe 
aristocratique  ddgofitaient,  tous  ceux  qui  voyaient  avec  mepris 
ce  que  I'Eglise  avait  pu  faire  de  la  religion,  avaient  embrasse 
la  cause  de  la  France  revolutionnaire.  Fox,  h  la  prise  de  la 
Bastille,  s'exclamait :  "  C'est  le  plus  grand  evenement  qui  se 
soit  passe  au  monde,  et  e'en  est  le  meilleur."  II  croyait  que 
tout  serait  fini  avec  le  demantelement  de  la  vieille  forteresse 
symbolique  et  ne  prevoyait  pas  qu'elle  pouvait  etre  sitot 
reconstituee :  I'idee  que  le  peuple  serait  assez  bete  pour  se 
forger,  benevolement,  des  chaines  pour  s'entraver  lui-meme 
ne  lui  etait  point  apparue.  Par  centre,  Burke  etait  pessimiste. 
II  ne  voyait  la  que  "la  vieille  ferocite  parisienne,"  et  se 
demandait  si,  apres  tout,  ce  peuple  n'est  pas  impropre  k  la 
liberty,  et  s'il  n'a  pas  besoin  d'une  main  vigoureuse  pour  le 


TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLATSES,  361 

contenir.  II  etait  pessimiste  et  autoritaire :  aussi  eut-il  beau- 
coup  d'adherents ;  et  Pitt  bientot  se  joignit  k  lui,  au  moins 
dans  la  haine  des  revolutionnaires.  Son  humiliation  fut  une 
joie  profonde  pour  les  whigs  qui  suivaient  Fox :  et  il  est 
interessant  de  voir  que,  pour  beaucoup,  la  defaite  de  Pitt 
comptait  plus  que  celle  de  Napoleon.  II  ;•  avait  des  whigs 
jusque  dans  la  famille  royale,  et  ils  etaient  pleins  d'ardeur. 
Au  reste  la  cause  etait  belle  :  c'etait  celle  de  la  liberte  contre 
I'autorite.  "  Nos  adversaires,"  s'ecriait  Lord  John  Russell, 
"  nous  cassent  le  tympan  avec  le  cri :  '  Le  roi  et  I'Eglise.' 
Savez-vous  ce  qu'ils  entendent  par  la  ?  C'est  une  Eglise  sans 
evangile  et  un  roi  qui  se  met  au-dessus  de  la  loi."  Oxford — 
clerical  et  litteraire — etait  tory ;  Cambridge,  scientifique,  qui 
avait  eu  Newton  et  attendait  Darwin,  etait  whig.  II  est  bon 
que  la  politique  inspire  de  telles  passions  :  car,  au  total,  c'est 
la  lutte  entre  les  principes  fondamentaux,  et  I'enjeu  est  de 
nature  telle  que  nul  n'a  le  droit  de  se  desinteresser  de  la 
partie.  Car  I'enjeu  ce  sont  les  hommes  memes,  leurs 
privileges  et  leurs  droits,  et  s'ils  se  desinteressent,  ils  n'ont 
que  ce  qu'ils  meritent  le  jour  ot  la  force  s'appesantit  sur  eux 
brutalement. 

A  n'entendre  parler  que  de  politique,  les  enfants  memes 
se  troublaient.  "  Maman,"  demandait  la  fille  d'un  whig 
eminent ;  "  les  tories  naissent-ils  mechants,  ou  bien  le 
deviennent-ils ? "  "Ils  naissent  mechants,"  repliqua  la  mere, 
"et  deviennent  pires.  .  .  .'  Une  vieille  fille  excentrique, 
que  I'auteur  a  connue,  ne  consentait  a  monter  dans  une 
voiture  de  louage  qu'apres  avoir  demande  au  cocher  s'il 
n'avait  point  transporte  de  malades  atteints  d'une  maladie 
infectieuse,  s'il  n'etait  pas  puseyite,  et  enfin  s'il  adherait  au 
programme  whig. 

"La  passion  aveugle,"  dit  Topffer:  elle  aveuglait  sur  la 
morality  des  procedes.  Pitt,  en  visite  chez  une  femme  qui 
occupait  un  rang  eleve  dans  le  monde  whig,  au  moment 
d'une  election,  dit  a  son   interlocutrice :    "  Eh  bien !  vous 


362  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLATSES.  - 

savez,  nous  remporterons.  Dix  mille  guinees  partiront 
demain  par  un  homme  de  confiance  pour  le  Yorkshire,  et 
c'est  pour  notre  usage  qu'elles  partent"  "Du  diable  s'il  en 
est  ainsi,"  replique  la  dame.  Et  la  nuit  meme  le  porteur 
etait  arrete,  et  son  precieux  fardeau  allait  grossir  les  poches 
des  electeurs  qui  voterent  pour  le  candidat  whig  et  en 
assurerent  la  nomination. 

C'est  au  cours  de  ces  luttes  politiques,  pleines  de  feu  et 
glorieuses,  qui  marquerent  principalement  le  debut  de  ce 
siecle,  et  firent  tant  de  bien  a  la  nation,  que  les  barrieres 
entre  les  castes  commencerent  a  s'abaisser.  J  usque-la,  il 
n'y  avait  point  de  rapports  entre  I'aristocratie  et  la  classe 
moyenne,  en  dehors  des  cas,  encore  rares,  oil  la  premiere 
patronnait  I'aristocratie  intellectuelle.  (Voyez  La  Vie  de 
Johnson  par  Boswell,  par  exemple.) 

Les  choses  allaient  k  ce  point  que  Wilberforce  refusa  la 
pairie  pour  ne  point  retirer  k  ses  fils  le  privilege  de  frequenter 
ches  les  gentlemen,  les  families  du  commerce,  etc.  A  I'ecole 
— et  c'est  lord  Bathurst  qui  a  raconte  ceci  k  I'auteur — les 
fils  de  nobles  etaient  assis  sur  un  banc  a  part,  loin  du 
contact  avec  les  roturiers.  II  fallait  garder  la  tradition. 
C'est  ce  que  faisait  le  marquis  d'Abercom,  qui  mourut  en 
1818.  II  n'allait  jamais  a  la  chasse  sans  arborer  sa  decora- 
tion— son  Blue  Ribbon — et  exigeait  que  pour  faire  son  lit  les 
femmes  de  chambre  eussent  les  mains  gantees,  et  de  gants  de 
peau,  pas  de  fil.  .  .  .  Avant  d'epouser  sa  cousine  Hamilton, 
il  la  fit  anoblir  par  le  regent,  pour  ne  pas  se  marier  au-dessous 
de  sa  condition.  Et  quand  il  apprit  qu'elle  le  voulait  planter 
la  pour  suivre  un  amant,  il  la  pria  de  prendre  le  carrosse  de 
famille  afin  qu'il  ne  fflt  pas  dit  que  Lady  Abercom  avait 
quitte  le  domicile  conjugal  dans  une  voiture  de  louage.  A 
ses  yeux  cette  "voiture  de  louage"  jetait  ^videmment  un 
grand  discredit  sur  les  operations.  On  a  de  la  race  ou  I'on 
n'en  a  pas. 

Nous  avons  dit  plus  haut  que  M.  G.  W.  E.  Russell  avait 


TRAITS  DE  M(EURS  AXGLAISES.         363 

connu  beaucoup  d'hommes  marquants  de  ce  siecle,  et  avait 
eu  avec  eux  des  relations  personnelles.  H  en  fiit  de  toutes 
soites ;  leurs  opinions  religieuses  tt  polidques  etaient  souvent 
ties  opposees,  mais  tous  etaiait  au  nombre  des  notabilites  du 
jour.  Sur  chacun  d'eiuc,  notre  auteur  donne  son  impression 
personnelle,  et  rappelle  des  souvenirs  personnels  ou  des 
anecdotes  interessantes.  Nous  ne  pouvons  les  passer  tous 
&i  re>nie  :  mais  on  en  peut  citer  quelques-uns. 

Sir  Moses  Montefiore  ne  fut  pas  le  plus  c^lebre :  mais  il 
avait  ime  speciality  Ne  en  1784,  il  mourut  en  18S5,  ayant 
ete  toute  sa  vie  un  objet  d'horreur  pour  les  teetotallers ;  car 
de  quel  ceil  en  verite  pouvaient-ils  consid^rer  un  homme  qui 
buvait  chaque  jour  une  bouteille  de  porto,  et  ^  qui  la  Provi- 
dence permettait  de  se  bien  porter  ?    Cetait  indecent  .  .  . 

Une  physionomie  plus  curieuse  etait  celle  de  Lord  RusseU, 
[dein  d'anecdotes,  spiritual,  souvent  froid  en  apparence,  i 
I'occasion  eloquent  A  ime  dame  qui  demandait  la  permis- 
sion de  lui  dedier  un  livre,  il  repliquait  qu'i  son  grand  r^r^ 
il  se  voyait  oblige  de  refuser:  "parce  que,  comme  chaii- 
celier  de  I'Universite  d'Oxford,  il  avait  ete  tres  expose  aux 
auteurs." 

Pour  un  chef  politique,  il  avait  un  grave  defaut  Sa 
memoire  des  visages  etait  tres  faible.  II  se  rencontra  ime  fois 
en  Ecosse  chez  im  ami  commun  avec  le  jeune  Lord  D.  .  .  ., 
depuis  comte  de  S.  .  .  .  Le  jeune  homme  lui  plut  par  sa 
personne  et  par  ses  opinions  whig.  Quand  vint  llieure  de  la 
separation,  Lord  John  dit  a  Lord  D.  .  .  .  tout  le  plaisir 
qu'il  avait  eu  a  faire  sa  connaissance,  et  ajouta :  "  Maintenant 
il  faut  que  vous  veniez  me  donner  votre  appui  ^  la  Chambre 
des  commimes."  "  Mais  je  ne  fais  pas  autre  chose  depuis  dix 
ans,"  repondit  le  jeune  politicien.  Son  chef  ne  ra%-ait  pas 
reconnu.  Avec  cela  des  distractions  qui  amaient  pu  le 
faire  croire  denue  d'education  alors  qu'il  n'etait  que  denue 
d'artifice. 

Etant  assis  un  soir  k  un  concert  k  Buckingham  Palace, 

I 


364  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES. 

aux  cotes  de  la  duchesse  de  Sutherland,  il  se  leva  tout  a 
coup,  et  s'en  fut  au  fond  de  la  piece,  oh  il  s'assit  aupres  de  la 
duchesse  d'Inverness.  La  chose  fut  remarquee,  et  Ton 
soupgonna  quelque  querelle,  aussi  fut-il  interroge  par  un  ami 
sur  la  cause  de  son  attitude,  et  il  repondit  et  toute  sincerite: 
"  Je  ne  pouvais  rester  plus  longtemps  aupres  d'un  feu  aussi 
vif:  je  me  serais  evanoui."  "Ah!  tres  bien :  la  raison  est 
bonne  en  effet,  mais  au  moins  avez-vous  dit  a  la  duchesse 
de  Sutherland  la  raison  de  votre  changement  de  place?" 
"  Tiens,  non,  je  ne  crois  pas  le  lui  avoir  dit :  mais  j'ai  dit 
k  la  duchesse  d'Inverness  pourquoi  je  venais  m'asseoir  pres 
d'elle." 

II  n'etait  pas  diplomate — comme  on  le  peut  voir — mais  il 
avait  de  I'esprit,  et  sa  conversation  etait  pleine  d'anecdotes 
curieuses.  II  avait  converse  avec  Napoleon  a  Tile  d'Elbe. 
Celui-ci  I'avait  pris  par  I'oreille,  et  lui  avait  demande  ce  qu'en 
Angleterre  on  pensait  des  chances  qu'il  pouvait  avoir  de 
remonter  sur  le  trone  de  France.  "Sire,"  repondit  Russell, 
"  les  Anglais  considerent  vos  chances  comme  nulles."  "  Alors 
vous  pouvez  leur  dire  de  ma  part  qu'ils  se  trompent." 

Autre  physionomie  interessante,  celle  de  Lord  Shaftesbury, 
un  beau  type  d'aristocrate,  au  physique  comme  au  moral, 
tres  sensible  et  compatissant,  un  philanthrope  bon  et  loyal, 
anti-esclavagiste  militant  "  Pauvres  enfants,"  disait-il  en 
ecoutant  le  recit  d'un  inspecteur  d'ecole  d'enfants  assistes. 
"  Que  pouvons-nous  faire  pour  eux  ?  "  "  Notre  Dieu  sub- 
viendra  a  tous  leurs  besoins,"  dit  I'inspecteur,  en  servant  le 
cliche  habituel.  "  Oui,  sans  doute,  mais  il  faut  qu'ils  aient  k 
manger  tout  de  suite,"  dit  Shaftesbury,  et  sur  I'heure  il  rentre 
chez  lui,  et  exp6die  400  rations  de  soupe,  Le  quiproquo 
d'un  journaliste  americain  I'amusa  fort.  Devenu  Lord 
Shaftesbury  apres  avoir  longtemps  porte  le  nom  de  Lord 
Ashley,  il  signa  une  lettre  sur  I'emancipation  des  esclaves  des 
Etats-Unis  du  Sud.     "  Oti  etait-il  done,  ce  lord  Shaftesbury," 


TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES.  365 

demandait  le  journaliste,  "pendant  que  ce  noble  coeur,  Lord 
Ashley,  seul  et  sans  appui,  se  faisait  le  champion  des  esclaves 
anglais  dans  les  manufactures  du  Lancashire  et  du  York- 
shire ?  "  C'etait  un  type  admirable  de  grand  seigneur,  et  de 
grand  coeur,  et  Ton  comprend  ce  que  lui  disait  Beaconsfield, 
avec  un  peu  d'emphase,  une  fois  qu'il  prenait  conge,  apres  lui 
avoir  rendu  visite  dans  son  chateau :  "  Adieu,  mon  cher 
lord.  Vous  m'avez  donne  le  privilege  de  contempler  I'un 
des  plus  impressionnants  des  spectacles;  de  voir  un  grand 
noble  anglais  vivant  a  I'etat  patriarcal  dans  son  domaine 
hereditaire." 

Puis  c'est  Lord  Houghton,  qui  avait  de  I'esprit  et  de  la 
psychologie.  II  venait  de  gagner  une  livre  a  un  jeune  homme 
de  ressources  tres  modestes,  au  cours  d'une  partie  de  whist,  et 
comme  il  empochait  la  piece :  "  Ah !  mon  cher  enfant,'' 
dit-il,  "le  grand  Lord  Hertford,  que  les  sots  appellent  le 
mechant  Lord  Hertford,  avait  accoutume  de  dire  :  II  n'y  a  pas 
de  plaisir  a  gagner  de  I'argent  a  un  homme  qui  ne  sent  point 
sa  perte.     Comme  c'est  vrai ! " 

Et  apercevant  un  jeune  ami,  au  club,  qui  faisait  un  souper 
de  pate  de  foie  gras  et  de  champagne,  il  lui  fit  un  regard 
d'encouragement :  "  Voila  qui  est  bien,  mon  ami  :  toutes  les 
choses  agreables  de  la  vie  sont  malsaines,  ou  couteuses,  ou 
illicites."  C'est  un  peu  la  philosophie  du  Pudd'n-head 
Wilson  de  Mark  Twain,  qui  declare  que,  pour  bien  faire  dans 
la  vie,  il  faut  se  priver  de  tout  ce  que  Ton  aime,  et  faire  tout 
ce  que  Ton  n'aime  point. 

Notre  auteur  n'a  point  connu  Wellington,  mais  des  anec- 
dotes lui  ont  ete  fournies  a  son  egard,  de  premiere  main. 

C'etait  lors  du  couronnement  de  la  reine  Victoria.  Celle- 
ci  voulait  aller  au  palais  de  Saint- James,  n'ayant  dans  son 
carrosse  que  la  duchesse  de  Kent  et  une  dame  d'honneur; 
mais  Lord  Albemarle,  master  of  the  Iforse,  exposa  qu'il  avait 
le  droit  de  faire  le  trajet  avec  la  reine,  dans  la  meme  voiture. 


366  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES. 

comme  il  I'avait  fait  avec  Guillaume  IV.  De  la,  discussion. 
L'affaire  fut  soumise  au  due  de  Wellington,  considere  comma 
une  sorte  d'arbitre  en  choses  de  la  cour.  Sa  r^ponse  fut 
precise  et  peu  satisfaisante.  "La  reine  seule  a  droit  de 
decider,"  dit-il :  "  elle  peut  vous  faire  aller  dans  la  voiture  ou 
hors  de  la  voiture,  ou  courir  derriere  comme  un  s  .  .  .  chien 
de  raccommodeur." 

A  un  autre  moment  le  gouvemement  meditait  une  ex- 
pedition en  Birmanie  pour  la  prise  de  Rangoon,  et  Ton  se 
demandait  k  quel  general  la  tache  serait  confiee.  Le  cabinet 
consulta  Wellington.  Celui-ci  repliqua  aussitot :  '  Envoyez 
Lord  Comber  mere.' 

"  Mais  nous  avons  toujours  compris  que  Votre  Seigneurie 
consi  derail  Lord  Combermere  comme  un  imbecile.  ..." 
"  Assurement,  c'est  un  imbecile,"  repliqua  Wellington,  "  c'est 
un  s  .  .  .  imbecile,  mais  il  peut  bien  prendre  Rangoon." 

Autre  trait  de  la  meme  periode,  et  qui  se  rapporte  k  Lord 
Melbourne. 

La  reine  Victoria  venait  de  se  fiancer,  et  elle  voulait  que  le 
prince  Albert  fflt  fait  roi  consort,  par  acte  du  Parlement. 
Elle  parla  de  ceci  a  Lord  Melbourne,  le  premier  ministre. 
Celui-ci  commen^a  par  eviter  la  discussion,  mais  comme 
Sa  Majeste  insistait  pour  obtenir  un  avis  categorique :  "  Pour 
I'amour  de  Dieu,  Madame,  ne  parlons  plus  de  ceci.  Car,  une 
fois  que  vous  aurez  donne  a  la  nation  anglaise  le  moyen  de 
faire  des  rois,  vous  lui  aurez  aussi  donne  le  moyen  de  les 
defaire." 

II  avait  de  la  philosophic,  Lord  Melbourne.  .  .  .  C'est  lui 
qui  disait  que  I'intelligence  n'est  pas  toujours  indispensable : 
le  grand  avantage  du  celebre  ordre  de  la  Jarretiere,  ajoutait-il, 
c'est  qu'au  moins  "  il  n'y  a  pas,  dans  toute  cette  bete  d'his- 
toire,  de  mSrite  k  I'avoir."  Lord  Melbourne  avait  la  bosse  de 
I'esprit  pratique,  en  meme  temps  que  la  philosophic. 

Pour  les  personnalites  plus  modernes,  notre  auteur  insiste 


TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES.  367 

assez  longuement  sur  Disraeli,  alias  Dizzy,  alias  encore  Lord 
Beaconsfield.     C'etait  un  horn  me  ingenieux. 

"  On  m'accuse  d'etre  un  flatteur,"  disait-il  a  Matthew 
Arnold.  "  Cela  est  vrai,  je  suis  un  flatteur.  II  est  utile  de 
I'etre.  Chacun  aime  la  flatterie,  et,  si  vous  approchez  les 
rois,  il  faut  I'empiler  avec  une  truelle.  .  .  ."  "  Mon  secret, 
c'est  de  ne  jamais  contredire  et  de  ne  jamais  nier ;  j'oublie 
quelquefois.  ..." 

II  savait  etre  aimable  quand  il  le  fallait,  et  voici  son 
procede  pour  se  faire  bien  venir  des  personnes  qu'il  ne  recon- 
naissait  pas,  mais  qui  le  connaissaient,  a  en  juger  par  leur 
maniere  de  venir  k  lui :  "  Eh  bien  I "  disait-il  sur  un  ton 
d'affectueuse  soUicitude,  "  et  le  vieil  ennemi,  que  fait-il  ? " 
{How  is  the  old  complaint  i  Comment  va  I'indisposition 
accoutumee  ?)  Cela  tombait  rarement  a  faux,  et  cela  faisait 
toujours  plaisir. 

Bismarck,  qui  s'y  connaissait,  avait  une  haute  opinion  de 
Disraeli.  "  Salisbury  est  sans  importance,"  disait-il  durant  le 
congres  de  Berlin :  ce  n'est  qu'une  baguette  peinte  pour 
ressembler  k  du  fer.  Mais  ce  vieux  juif — Disraeli — s'entend 
aux  affaires." 

Un  amusant  episode  se  rapporte  au  meme  congres,  et  au 
meme  "vieux  juif." 

Lord  Beaconsfield  arriva  ^  Berlin  la  veille  de  I'ouverture, 
et  I'ambassade  anglaise  le  regut  avec  beaucoup  d'apparat.  Dans 
le  courant  de  la  soiree  un  des  secretaires  vint  trouver  Lord 
Odo  Russell  qui  etait  I'ambassadeur  en  ce  moment  et  lui  dit : 

"  Nous  sommes  dans  un  terrible  embarras.  Vous  seul 
pouvez  nous  en  tirer.  Le  vieux  chef  a  resolu  d'ouvrir  le 
congres  avec  un  discours  en  frangais.  ...  II  a  redige  une 
longue  oraison,  en  fran9ais,  et  il  I'a  apprise  par  coeur.  II 
ouvrira  les  ecluses  demain.  L'Europe  entiere  va  se  moquer 
de  nous:  sa  prononciation  est  execrable.  Nous  perdrions 
nos  places  i  vouloir  le  lui  dire :  voulez-vous  nous  tirer 
d'affaire?" 


368  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES.     " 

"  La  mission  est  delicate,"  fit  Lord  Odo :  "  mais  j'aime 
les  missions  delicates.     Je  vais  voir  ce  que  je  puis  faire." 

II  alia  rejoindre  Dizzy  dans  la  chambre  a  cou-^her 
d'honneur  de  I'ambassade. 

"  Mon  cher  lord,"  dit-il,  "une  terrible  rumeur  est  arrivee 
jusqu'a  mes  oreilles." 

"  Vraiment,  qu'est-ce  done  ?  " 

"On  nous  dit  que  vous  avez  I'intention  d'ouvrir  demain 
les  travaux  du  congres  en  frangais." 

"  Eh  bien  !  et  apres  ?  " 

"Ce  qu'il  y  a,  c'est  que  nous  savons  tons  que  nul  en 
Europe  n'est  mieux  en  dtat  de  ce  faire.  Mais,  k  tout  prendre, 
faire  un  discours  en  frangais  est  un  tour  de  force  banal. 
II  y  aura  au  congres  au  moins  une  demi-douzaine  d'hommes 
qui  pourraient  en  faire  autant,  presque  aussi  bien.  Mais, 
d'un  autre  cote,  qui  done,  hormis  vous,  pourrait  prononcer 
un  discours  en  anglais  ?  Tous  ces  plenipotentiaires  sont 
venus  des  dififerentes  cours  d'Europe  dans  I'expectative  du 
plus  grand  regal  intellectuel  de  leur  existence  :  entendre  parler 
en  anglais  par  le  maitre  le  plus  eminent  de  la  langue.  La 
question  est  de  savoir  si  vous  les  voulez  desappointer  ?  .  .  ."^ 

Dizzy  ecouta  avec  attention,  mit  son  monocle,  consid^ra 
Lord  Odo,  et  dit  enfin  : 

"  II  y  a  un  argument  serieux  dans  ce  que  vous  me  dites 
la.     Je  vais  y  reflechir." 

Et  il  y  reflechit  si  bien  que  le  lendemain  il  ouvrait  le 
congres  en  langue  anglaise.  Avait-il  reellement  avale  la 
flatterie,  ou  bien  avait-il  compris — fiit-ce  vaguement — son 
inferiority  en  fran9ais  ?  On  ne  sait ;  mais  un  flatteur  tel 
que  lui  devait  avoir  quelque  mefiance ;  et  la  seconde 
hypothese  est  sans  doute  la  plus  exacte. 

Autre  anecdote.  II  dinait  un  jour  k  c6t6  de  la  princesse 
de  Galles,  et  se  blessa  le  doigt  en  voulant  couper  du  pain  trop 
dur.  La  princesse,  pleine  de  grace,  entoura  le  doigt  de  son 
propre  mouchoir.     Et  Dizzy,  avec  k-propos,  de  s'exclamer  : 


TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES.         369 

*'Je  leur  ai  demande  du  pain,  et  c'est  une  pierre  qu'ils 
m'ont  donnee.  .  .  .  Mais  j'ai  eu  une  princesse  pour  panser 
mes  plaies." 

Sa  mort  fut  longue  et  douloureuse.  Pendant  six  semaines 
elle  approcha  et  s'eloigna  tour  a  tour.  Un  ami — ce  nom 
est-il  bien  en  situation — trouva  le  courage  de  dire  a  ce 
propos  :  "  Ah !  le  voilk  bien ;  il  exagere  :  il  a  toujours 
exagere." 

Sur  Gladstone,  Newman  et  beaucoup  d'autres,  il  faut 
passer  rapidement.  Manning  a  toutefois  laisse  une  grande 
impression  a  I'auteur,  par  sa  prestance  et  sa  dignite.  II  etait 
malicieux  aussi. 

Peu  apres  la  mort  de  Newman,  un  article  necrologique 
parut  dans  une  revue,  qui  etait  piquant  et  meme  mechant. 
Manning  fut  interroge  a  ce  propos ;  il  declara  qu'il  plaignait 
I'auteur  de  I'avoir  ecrit,  que  celui-ci  devait  avoir  un  fort 
mauvais  esprit,  etc.,  mais,  ajouta-t-il :  "  Si  vous  demandez  si 
c'est  bien  la  Newman,  je  suis  bien  oblige  de  vous  le  dire; 
c'est  une  vraie  photographie." 

On  peut  du  reste  ouvrir  Collections  and  Recollections  au 
hasard;  a  toute  page  c'est  un  trait  curieux  et  spirituel  qui 
se  montre.  J'en  cite  quelques-uns,  "  tout  venant,"  comme 
disent  les  carriers.  Les  deux  premiers  rapportent  a  Henry 
Smith,  un  Irlandais  des  plus  spirituels,  qui  fut  professeur 
de  geometrie  a  Oxford.  Un  homme  politique  eminent,  qui 
est  actuellement  un  des  premiers  jurisconsultes  de  son  pays, 
et  dont  le  principal  defaut  est  une  suflfisance  exageree,  se  pre- 
sentait  aux  elections  en  1880,  comme  candidat  liberal.  Pour 
le  discrediter,  ses  adversaires  politiques  le  representerent  aux 
elections  comme  athee ;  c'etait  une  manceuvre.  Apprenant 
cette  accusation,  Henry  Smith  s'ecria,  avec  une  indignation 
feinte : 

"Tout  cela  est  faux.      II  n'est  nullement  un  athee.     II 


370  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES. 

croit  le  plus  fermement  du  monde  k  I'existence  d'un  etre 

superieur  " — sans  ajouter  que  I'etre  superieur,  en  qui  X 

croyait,  ^tait  X lui-meme, 

"  Que  vaut-il  le  mieux  etre,  eveque  ou  juge  ?  "  "  Oh  ! " 
fait  Henry  Smith,  "  eveque.  Car  le  juge,  au  plus,  peut  dire : 
'  Allez  vous  faire  pendre;'  mais  I'eveque  peut  vous  damner." 
"  Oui,"  dit  le  maitre  de  Balliol,  '  mais  si  le  juge  dit :  '  AUez 
vous  faire  pendre,'  vous  etes  effectivement  pendu."  Ici  Smith 
avait  le  dessous. 

Una  jolie  anecdote  dont  Napoleon  III.  n^ est  pas  le  h^ros: 
Napoleon  III.,  alors  qu'il  n'^tait  que  pretendant,  et  plus 
riche  d'esperances  que  de  monnaie  ayant  cours  legal,  fre- 
quentait  beaucoup,  'k  Londres,  chez  Lady  Blessington, 
maison  plus  clinquante  que  solide.  Apres  le  coup  d'Etat, 
la  dame  vint  a  Paris  faire  un  petit  voyage,  et  elle  s'attendait 
a  ce  que  ses  politesses  lui  fussent  rendues.  Aucune  invita- 
tion ne  venait,  I'empereur  oubliait  les  bienfaits  re^us  par  le 
prince.  A  la  fin,  pourtant,  Lady  Blessington  reussit  \  le 
rencontrer  au  cours  d'une  reception  quelconque.  II  ne  put 
6viter  de  la  voir  et  I'interpella :  "  Ah  !  milady  Blessington, 
restez-vous  longtemps  a  Paris?"  "  Et  vous.  Sire?"  repliqua- 
t-elle. 

Revenons  un  peu  en  arri^re  et  voici  une  autre  jolie  ironie. 

Au  college  d'Oriel,  un  soir,  un  des  compagnons  de  Charles 
Marriott,  qui  joua  un  si  grand  rdle  dans  le  Tractarian  Move- 
ment^ s'oublia,  et  se  conduisit  de  fagon  deplac^e.  Le  lende- 
main,  rencontrant  Marriott,  il  essaya  de  s'excuser.  "Mon 
cher  ami,  je  crois  bien  que  j'ai  quelque  peu  fait  la  bete  hier 
au  soir."  "Comment  done,  cher  camarade?"  repliqua 
Marriott  "  Je  ne  me  suis  pas  apergu  que  vous  fussiez  autre- 
ment  qu'l,  I'ordinaire." 

Le  tact  n'est  pas  donne  k  tous  ;  et  pour  en  avoir,  il  ne 
suffit  pas  d'occuper  une  haute  situation. 


TRAITS  DE  MOSURS  ANGLAISES.         371 

II  y  a  a  Windsor,  au  bout  d'une  des  promenades  du 
chateau,  une  statue  equestre  que  le  peuple  a  denommee  le 
Cheval  de  cuivre.  Un  grand  de  distinction,  mais  assez 
pauvre  en  culture  historique,  etait  I'hote  de  la  Reine,  et 
une  apres-midi  il  fit  une  promenade.  A  diner  la  Reine 
s'informa  de  ce  qu'il  avail  fait,  demandant  s'il  n'etait  point 
fatigue. 

"  Du  tout,  Madame,  merci ;  j'ai  trouve  une  voiture  qui 
m'a  ramene  jusqu'au  Cheval  de  cuivre." 

"  Jusqu'ou  ?  "  dit  la  Reine  avec  effarement. 

"Jusqu'au  Cheval  de  cuivre,  vous  savez  bien,  au  bout  de 
Long  Walk." 

"  Mais  ce  n'est  pas  un  cheval  de  cuivre  :  c'est  mon  grand- 
pere." 

"Avez-vous  lu  les  Greville  Memoirs?^'  demandait  quel- 
qu'un  a  Disraeli.  "Non,"  repliqua-t-il.  "lis  ne  m'attirent 
pas.  II  me  souvient  de  I'auteur,  et  c'etait  la  personne  la 
plus  vaniteuse  avec  qui  je  sois  jamais  entre  en  contact, 
encore  que  j'aie  lu  Ciceron  et  connu  Bulwer  Lytton."  D'une 
pierre  trois  coups;  et  ils  sont  bons.  Voulez-vous  de  la 
malice  feminine  ? 

"Que  Lady  Jersey  est  done  belle!"  s'exclamait  un  ad- 
mirateur  fervent,  devant  Lady  Morley,  sa  rivale  en  beaute, 
"  Dans  sa  toilette  de  deuil,  en  noir  et  avec  ses  diamants,  elle 
semble  personnifier  la  nuit."  "Oui,  mon  cher,"  fit  Lady 
Morley,  "mais  minuit  passe." 

Le  chapitre  des  mots  d'enfants  est  fort  ^tendu.  J'en 
cueille  quelques-uns  au  hasard  : 

Voici  un  trait  d' Alexandre  de  Battenberg,  alors  qu'il  etait 
tout  jeune  encore.  Manquant  d'argent  de  poche,  il  imagina 
d'ecrire  h.  son  auguste  grand'mere,  la  reine  et  imperatrice 
Victoria,  pour  en  demander.  Elle  lui  repondit  une  admones- 
tation,  et  en  I'engageant  a  etre  desormais  plus  econome,  de 
fagon  k  ne  pas  se  trouver  d^pourvu  a  la  fin  du  mois.     Tres 


372  TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES. 

bien.  Quelque  jours  apr^s,  elle  regut  un  second  billet  de 
son  petit-fils. 

"Chere  grand'mere,"  disait  le  tres  pratique  personnage, 
"  je  suis  certain  que  vous  apprendrez  avec  plaisir  que  je  n'ai 
pas  besoin  de  vous  ennuyer  pour  de  I'argent  en  ce  moment, 
car  j'ai  vendu  votre  derniere  lettre  pour  30  shillings  k  un  de 
mes  camarades  d'ici !  .  .  ." 

Un  enfant — qui  depuis  a  et6  representant  de  Manchester 
au  Parlement — avait  dans  sa  famille  une  servante  qu'il  jugeait 
etre  fort  vieille.  II  etlt  voulu  savoir  son  age,  mais  il  n'osait 
le  lui  demander,  sachant  que  c'est  la  une  question  qu'on  ne 
pose  pas.  II  fallait  ruser.  Enfin,  un  jour,  il  trouva  le  biais 
requis.  II  venait  de  lire  que  I'aloes  ne  fleurit  qu'une  fois 
tous  les  cent  ans — ce  qui  est  une  erreur  d'ailleurs — et  il  y 
avait  des  aloes  dans  la  serre.  Abordant  la  servante  d'un  air 
calin  :  "  Avez-vous  souvent  vu  fleurir  I'aloes  ?  " 

Une  61egante  forme  de  politesse.  C'est  aux  Indes,  et  un 
Indien  rend  compte  au  gouverneur  d'une  partie  de  chasse 
qui  a  ete  organisee  en  I'honneur  d'un  jeune  lord  de  passage. 
"  Eh  bien  ?  "  fait  le  gouverneur.  "  Oh  ! "  dit  I'Indien,  "  le 
jeune  Sahib  a  tire  divinement ;  mais  Dieu  a  et6  tres  miseri- 
cordieux  pour  les  petits  oiseaux." 

Comme  cela  est  finement  dit !  Je  n'en  dirai  pas  autant  de 
quelques  exemples  de  rhetorique  religieuse. 

C'est  une  metaphore  cueillie  dans  le  sermon  d'un  clergy- 
man :  "  Et  si  quelque  ^tincelle  de  grace  a  pu  ^tre  allumee 
par  cet  exercice,  veuille,  6  Dieu,  I'arroser." 

Et  que  dites-vous  de  cette  priere  prononcee  devant  la  reine 
Victoria  par  un  predicateur  de  petite  ville  ?  "  Elle,"  c'est  la 
souveraine :  "  accorde,  6  Dieu  !  qu'en  devenant  plus  agee 
elle  soit  faite  un  homme  nouveau,  et  que  dans  toutes  les 
causes  de  justice  elle  marche  en  avant  de  son  peuple  comme 
un  b^lier  dans  les  montagnes." 

Que  de  metamorphoses,  grand  Dieu  ! 


TRAITS  DE  MCEURS  ANGLAISES.         ^73 

Et  enfin,  pour  ne  pas  sortir  de  la  theologie.  C'est  aux 
examens  de  I'Universite. 

"  Qu'est-ce  que  la  foi  ? 

"C'est  cette  faculte  par  laquelle  nous  pouvons  croire  ce 
que  nous  savons  n'dtre  pas  vrai." 

Et  j'en  passe,  et  des  meilleures,  et  en  grand  nombre. 
Lisez  Collections  and  Recollections;  I'occupation  est  amusante 
et  instructive,  et  une  excellente  table  des  noms  vous  per- 
mettra  de  savoir  tout  de  suite  s'il  est  parle  de  tel  ou  tel  per- 
sonnage  et  de  retrouver  les  anecdotes  qui  le  concernent. 


INDEX. 


Abercorn,  Marquis  of,  73. 
Acton,  Lord,  156. 
Albemarle,  sixth  Earl  of,  16. 
,,  fifth  Earl  of,  26. 

Albert,   Prince   Consort,   96,    201, 

204,  211,  307. 
Albert    Edward,   Prince  of  Wales 

{see  Wales). 
Alvanley,  Lord,  129,  177. 
Ampthill,  Lord,  224-26,  333. 
Appleton,  Tom,  182. 
Apponyi,  Mme.,  183. 
Arbuthnot,  Mrs.,  26. 
Argyll,  Duke  and  Duchess  of,  75. 
Arnold,    Matthew,    55,    123,    129, 

139,    162,    169,    191,    218,   221, 

240,  336. 
Atholl,  Duke  and  Duchess  of,  75. 
Aytoun,  W.  E.,  255. 

Balfour,  A.  J.,  151,  327,  335. 

G.  W.,  172. 
Barham,  Rev.  R.  H.  D.  ("  Thomas 

Ingoldsby"),  189. 
Barker,  H.  J.,  310. 
Bathurst,  Earl,  13,  73. 
Battenberg,   Prince   Alexander  of, 

213. 
Bayly,  T.  H.,  257. 
Beaconsfield,  Earl  of,  chap,  xxiii., 

II,  34,  38,  54,  57,  59,  75,  77, 
99,  118,  120,  123-24,  129,  131, 
138,  140,  143,  144,  147,  154,  161, 


163,  174,  177,  186,  189,  190,  192, 
194,  196,  197,  198,  221,  222, 
223,  224-27,  270,  313,  316,  324- 

25,  339- 

Beaconsfield,  Viscountess,  11,  222. 

Bedford,  Anna  Maria,  Duchess  of, 
84. 
„       fifth  Duke  of,  62. 
,,      Gertrude,  Duchess  of,  61. 
,,       sixth  Duke  of,  13,  25, 

Benson,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, 164-65. 

Benson,  Harry,  299. 

Beresford-Hope,  A.  J.  B.,  146. 

Berkeley,  Earl  of,  14. 

Bernal- Osborne,  Ralph,  222,  292. 

Berry,  the  Misses,  81. 

Birrell,  Augustine,  157-58,  241. 

Bismarck,  Count  Herbert,  186-87. 
,,         Prince,  216. 

Blessington,  Countess  of,  183. 

Blomfield,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  London, 
67. 

Bolles,  Dame  Maria,  194. 

Bolton,  Duchess  of,  91. 

Boswell,  James,  242. 

Bowen,  Lord,  130,  133,  179. 

Braddon,  Miss,  195. 

Bright,   John,   34,    162,   323,   326, 
336. 

Brookfield,     Rev.    W.     H.,     145, 
166-67. 

Brougham,  Lord,  I10-16,  117,  141. 


376 


INDEX. 


Broughton,  Miss,  305. 

Browne,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Ely,  300. 

Browning,   Robert,   130,   134,  135, 

144,  265. 
Brownrigg,  Mrs.,  251-52. 
Brummell,  G.  B.,  175. 
Buckinghamshire,      Countess     of, 

14. 
Bull,  Bishop,  279. 
Burdett,  Sir  Francis,  16,  22,  118. 
Burgon,  Dean,  253-54,  279. 
Burke,  Sir  Bernard,  193,  195. 
,,      Edmund,    35,    62,    78,   80, 
82,      100-2,      112,     113, 
116,  120,  151,  177. 
Bury,  Lady  Charlotte,  211. 
Butler,    Dr.,    Master    of    Trinity, 
229. 
,,        Dr.,   Bishop  of  Lichfield, 
264. 
Byng,  George,  118. 
Byron,  Lord,  13,  104,  196,  312. 

Calverley,  C.  S.,  257-60,  274. 

Cambridge,   Adolphus,    Duke    of, 

210. 

„  Duchess  of,  214. 

Canning,  George,  25,  116,  119, 
126,  252. 

Canterbury,  Archbishops  Benson, 
Cornwall  is,  Howley,  Tait,  and 
Temple,  of  {see  those  headings). 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  55,  299. 

Carrington,  Lord,  64,  192. 

"Carroll,  Lewis,"  261,  267. 

Chamberlain,  Joseph,  328. 

Charles  I.,  157,  220. 

,.       II.,  15- 
Chatham,  Earl  of,  78,  120. 
Child,  Miss,  92. 
Church,  Dean,  164. 
Churchill,  Lord  Randolph,  220. 
Clarence,      Edward,      Duke      of, 

203-4. 
„  William,      Duke      of, 

210. 
Cleveland,  Duchess  of,  14. 
Cobbett,  William,  241. 


Cobden,  F.  C,  312. 

,,        Richard,  34,  124. 
Cockbum,  Sir  Alexander,  154. 
"Coke     of    Norfolk"     (Earl     of 

Leicester),  105. 
Coleridge,    Lord,    113,    127,    130, 
132,  181,  279. 
SirJ.  T.,68. 
Collins,  Miss,  168. 
Combermere,  Viscount,  25. 

„  Viscountess,  293. 

Connaught,  Duke  of,  212. 

,,  Prince  Arthur  of,  213. 

Comwallis,     Dr.,    Archbishop    of 

Canterbury,  67. 
Cowper  -  Temple,    W.     F.    (Lord 

Mount-Temple),  57,  65. 
Croker,  J.  W.,  99. 
Cross,  Viscount,  196,  286,  339. 
Cumberland,  Ernest,  Duke  of,  17, 
81,  104,   174,  201, 
210. 
,,  Henry        Frederick, 

Duke  of,  62. 
Cuyler,  Miss,  106. 
Cunningham,  Sir  Henry,  133. 


Delane,  J.  T.,  145,  178. 
Denison,  Archdeacon,  94,  321. 
Derby,  fourteenth  Earl  of,  35,  123- 
24,  129,  190. 
„      fifteenth  Earl  of,  83. 
De  Ros,  Lord,  86,  109. 
Devonshire,  eighth  Duke  of,  277. 
Dickens,   Charles,  243,  245,   253, 

305-  . 
Disraeli  {see  Beaconsfield). 
D'Orsay,  Count  Alfred,  51. 
Dowse,  Serjeant,  181. 
Dublin,      Archbishops      Plunket, 

Trench,   and    Whately,   of   {see 

those  headings). 
Duckworth,  Rev.  Dr.,  170,  316. 
Dufferin,  Marchioness  of,  291. 

„  Marquis  of,  297. 
Duncombe,  Thomas,  245. 
Dundas,  Sir  David,  252. 


INDEX. 


377 


Eldon,  Earl  of,  24. 

Elliot,  Dean,  163, 

Ely,     Bishops     Browne,     Sparke, 

Turton,   and  Woodford,   of  {see 

those  headings). 
Erne,  Earl  and  Countess  of,  181. 
Erskine,  Lord,  102,  115,  120. 
Evarts,  Jeremiah,  182, 
Exeter,  Dr.   Phillpotts,  Bishop  of, 

183. 
Eyton,  Rev.  Robert,  170. 

FitzGerald,  Lady  Edward,  13. 
Fitzherbert,  Mrs.,  6x. 
Fitzwilliam,  Earl,  280. 
Forster,  W.  E.,  123,  271-72. 
Fox,  C.  J.,  16,  19,  62,  101-4,  107, 

114,  1181-19,  147. 
Frederick,   the    Empress  (Princess 

Royal),  307. 
Freeman,  E.  A.,  180. 
Froude,  J.  A.,  216. 
Furse,  Archdeacon,  170. 

Gambetta,  Leon,  272. 

George  IV.  {see  under  Kings). 

Gladstone,  W.  E.,  12,  22,  34,  42, 
46,  63,  71,  81,  82,  109,  112, 
116,  126-28,  131,  142-44,  150, 
153,  156,  168,  170,  186-87,  190. 
202,  218-19,  242,  243,  245,  285, 
312,    313-14,    319,    325,    327, 

336. 
Glasse,  Hannah,  77. 
Glentworth,  Viscountess,  no. 
Gloucester,  Duke  of  ("Silly  Billy"), 

175- 
Gore,  Rev.  Charles,  170. 
Goschen,  G.  J.,  153-54,  156. 
Gower,  Earl,  146. 
Graham,  H.  J.  L.,  274. 
Grain,  Comey,  269,  283. 
Granville,  Earl,  130,  178. 
Grattan,  Henry,  116. 
Grenville,  Thomas,  63. 
Greville,  C.  C.  F.,  177,  211. 
Grey,  Colonel  Charles,  186. 


Grey,  Earl,  102,  108,  118. 
,,      Lady  Georgiana,  17. 
Guthrie,  Anstey,  280. 

Haig-Brown,  Rev.  Dr.,  180. 
Hamilton,  Lady  Anne,  211. 
,,         Lady  Cecil,  74. 
,,  Emma,  Lady,  15. 

Hampden,  Viscount,  191. 

,,  Dr.,    Bishop   of   Here- 

ford, 23,  211,  323. 
Hankey,  Thomson,  83. 

,,         Mrs.,  16. 
Hanover,  Ernest,  King  of,  174. 
Harcourt,  Lady  Anne,  69,  147. 
, ,         Dr. ,  Archbishop  of  York, 

68,  147. 
,,         Sir  William,  145-48. 
Hardy,    Gathorne   (Earl   of  Cran- 

brook),  179. 
Harness,  Rev.  William,  167. 
Harte,  Bret,  244. 
Hayward,  Abraham,  129,  183, 198, 

242-43- 
Healy,  T.  M.,  180. 
Heath,  Baron,  13. 
Hertford,  first  Marquis  of,  61. 
„         third  Marquis  of,  57. 
Hilton,  A.  C,  267. 
Hoare,  Mrs.,  16. 
Holland,  Sir  Henry,  M.D.,  12. 
„         Rev.  H.  S.,  171. 
Lady,  23,  177. 
Lord,    19,  23,   141,    177, 

327- 

Hook,  Dean,  243. 

Hope-Scott,  J.  R,,  46. 

Houghton,  Lord,  chap,  v.,  129, 160, 
192,  322,  327. 

Howley,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, 63,  66,  68,  81. 

Hugo,  Victor,  272. 

Hume,  David,  193. 

Huntingdon,  Countess  of,  63,  67, 
74.  90- 

"  Ingoldsby,      Thomas  "     (Rev. 


378 


INDEX. 


R.    H.    D.    Barham),    189;    his 
"Legends,"  253. 
Irving,  Sir  Henry,  168,  285. 

Jenkins,  Miss  A.  M.,  321-22. 

,,  Edward,  245. 
Jersey,  Countess  of,  178. 
Jessopp,  Rev.  Dr.,  303. 
Johnson,  Dr.,  76,  171,  189,   241- 

42. 
Jones,  W,  B.  T.,  254. 
Jowett,    Rev.    Benjamin,    171-72, 

179,  244. 

Keble,  Rev.  John,  53,  67. 
Kent,  Duchess  of,  20,  200. 
Keppel,  Admiral,  107. 
Kidd,  Dr.,  222. 
Kings — 

Ernest  of  Hanover,  174. 

George  HI.,  67,  107,  208. 

George    IV.,  83,    109,    208-10, 

211. 

William  IV.,  175,  211. 
Kingsley,  Rev.  Charles,  172. 

Henry,  305. 
Kipling,  Rudyard,  274-75. 
Kitchener,  Dr.,  77,  84. 
Knox,  Alexander,  95. 
Knutsford,  Viscount,  12. 
Kurr,  William,  299. 

Labouchere,  Henry,  154-56. 

La  Fai,  l'Abb6  de,  61. 

Lang,  Andrew,  257,  270. 

Law,  Rev.  William,  90. 

Lawson,  Sir  Wilfrid,  192. 

Lear,  Edward,  269. 

Lecky,  W.  E.  H.,  89,  90,  99. 

Leech,  John,  19,  306,  311. 
,,      Miss,  306. 

Leicester,  Eiarl  of  ("Coke  of  Nor- 
folk"), 105. 

Lennox,  Lady  Louisa,  17,  64. 

Leo  XIII.  {.see  Popes,  Leo  XIII.). 

Liddell,  Dean,  163. 

Liddon,    Rev.    Dr.,   67,    165,  281, 
291-92. 


Lightfoot,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Durham, 

147. 
Lily,  Mrs.,  212. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  295. 
Lind,  Jenny,  166,  171. 
London,  Dr.  Blomfield,  Bishop  of, 

67. 
Lover,  Samuel,  253. 
Lowell,  J.  R.,  130,  135-36,  292. 
Luttrell,  Henry,  23,  129,  176. 
Lyndhurst,  Lady,  12. 

,,  Lord,  12,  122. 

Lyttelton,  Lady,  211. 
Lytton,    Lord,    20,    121,    123-24, 

178,  242. 

Macaulay,  Lord,  23,  53,  81,  112, 
113,  129,  141,  149,  161,  177, 
229,  242,  259,  327. 

M'Carthy,  Justin,  326. 

MacCoU,  Rev.  Malcolm,  156,  168. 

Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  113,  129, 
132,  141,  177,  344. 

Macleod,  Rev.  Norman,  288. 

Mallock,  W.  H.,  171,  219,  244. 

Manners,  Lord  John  (Duke  of  Rut- 
land), 254. 

Manning,  Cardinal,  chap,  iv.,  164. 

Marlborough,  third  Duke  of,  28. 
,,  fourth  Duke  of,  30. 

Marriott,  Rev.  Charles,  185. 

Marsh,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Peter- 
borough, 67. 

Marten,  Henry,  251. 

Martin,  Sir  Theodore,  211,  255. 

Maude,  Capt.  Francis,  15. 

Maxse,  Lady  Caroline,  15. 

Maxwell,  Sir  Herbert,  322. 

Melbourne,  Viscount,  30,  64,  81, 
141,  177,  196,  202,  330. 

Merry,  Rev.  W.  W.,  258. 

Milnes,  R.  M.  {see  Lord  Houghton). 

"Miss  J.,"  321. 

Monk,  Dr.,  Bishopof  Gloucester,67. 

Montefiore,  Sir  Moses,  15. 

Montgomery,  Miss,  305. 

„  Rev.     Robert,    161, 

229. 


INDEX. 


379 


Moore,  Thomas,  19,  112,  124,  257. 
More,  Hannah,  90,  93,  95. 
Morley,  John,  112,  149-50. 

,,        Countess  of,  178. 
Morris,  Lord,  181. 
Motley,  J.  L.,  182. 
Mount- Temple,  Lord  {see  Cowper- 
Temple,  W.  F.). 

Napoleon  L,  18,  19,  23,  104. 

IIL,  183,  316. 
Newman,  Cardinal,  49,  254. 
Northumberland,  Dukeand  Duchess 

of,  75- 
Norton,  Mrs.,  26,  321. 

Oaks  Widows,  the,  203-4. 
O'Coighley,  J.,  177. 
O'Connell,  Daniel,  121-22,  252. 
"Old  Q.,"76. 
Orleans,  Duke  of,  61. 
O'Sullivan,  W.  H.,  180. 
Owen,  Sir  Hugh,  281. 

Palmerston,    Viscount,    12,    30, 

34-35.   52,   125- 
26,  192,  333. 
,,  Viscountess,  30. 

"Pamela"    (Lady    Edward    Fitz- 

Gerald),  13. 
Parke,  Sir  James  (see  Lord  Wens- 

leydale). 
Parr,  Rev.  Dr.,  13,  19,  177. 
Pater,  W.  H.,  296. 
Payn,  James,  278. 
Peel,  Sir  Robert  (father),  32,  120- 
21,  142,  218. 
„  (son),  130-32. 

Pembroke,  Countess,  18. 

,,  Earl  of,  81. 

Phillpotts,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Exeter, 

183. 
Pigott,  Miss,  62. 
Pitt,  William  (see  Chatham). 
Pitt,  William  (younger),  53,  75,  78, 
101-4,    106,    108,    I 13-16,    118, 
126,  192,  325. 
Pius  IX.  (set  Popes,  Pius  IX.). 


Plunket,  Lord,  117. 

Pollock,  Sir  Frederick,  265. 

Popes,  Leo  XIII.,  50,  186. 
,,       Pius  IX.,  49-50,  186. 

Prince  Regent  (see  Kings,  George 
IV.). 

Princess  Royal  (see  Victoria,  Prin- 
cess Royal). 

Procter,  Mrs.,  13. 

"Q.,"274. 

Queen  Victoria,  chap,  xxi.,  16,  19, 
26,  30-31,  96,  109,  142-43.  162, 
179,  184,  208-10,  211-13,  215, 
290,  307. 

Queensberry,   Duke  of  (see   "Old 

Q"). 

Raikes,  H.  C,  247-50. 

Raphoe,   Dr.    Twysden,  Bishop  of 

(see  Tvrysden,  Dr.). 
Rawlinson,  Sir  Robert,  96. 
Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  28. 
Rhoades,  James,  265. 
Richmond,  Rev.  Legh,  95. 
,,  Duchess  of,  64. 

Ridding,  Dr. ,  Bishop  of  Southwell, 
236. 
,,         Lady  Laura,  236. 
Robinson,  Rev.  Thomas,  95. 
Rochester,  Dr.  Thorold,  Bishop  of 

(see  Thorold). 
Rogers,     Samuel,    23,     129,     177, 

327- 
„         J.  E.  Thorold,  179. 
Rosebery,   Earl  of,  92,   152,    153, 

327- 
Rossetti,  D.  G.,  265. 
Rowton,  Lord,  216. 
Ruskin,  John,  150,  206,  227. 
Russell,  Lord  Charles,  17,  209. 
,,       Lord  John  (sixth  Duke  of 

Bedford),  13,  25. 
,,       Lord  John  (Earl  Russell), 
chap,    ii.,    13,   35,    105, 
117,  118,  124,  146,  190, 
212,  323. 


38o 


INDEX. 


Russell,     Odo     (Lord     Ampthill), 
224-26,  333. 

„  Lord  William,  13. 

,,  Lord  Wriothesley,  299. 

Rutland,  Duke  of,  254. 

Salisbury,   Marquis  of,  42,  150- 
51,  157,  168,  188,  216,  298,  325, 
328,  334- 
Saurin,   Lady   Mary   {n/e   Ryder), 

no. 
Sawbridge,  Mrs.,  91. 
Scott,  John  (Earl  of  Eldon),  24. 
,,      Rev.  Thomas,  90. 
,,      Sir  Walter,  14,  17,  19,  80. 
,,      William  (Lord  Stowell),  24. 
Seaman,  Owen,  274. 
Seeley,  Sir  John,  172. 
Sellon,  Miss,  308. 
Seymour,  Lady  Robert,  12. 
,,         Sir  Hamilton,  87. 
,,        Jane,   Lady  (Duchess  of 
Somerset),  176,317-19. 
„         Ixjrd  Robert,  60,  78,  91, 
107,  III. 
Shaftesbury,  sixth  Earl  of,  28,  90. 
„  seventh  Earl  of,  chap, 

iii.,  86,  94,  210. 
Shaw-Lefevre,    Charles    (Viscount 

Eversley),  114. 
Shell,  R.  L.,  122. 
Sheppard,  Thomas,  73. 
Sherbrooke,    Viscount,    154,    179, 

185. 
Sheridan,    Jane    (Lady    Seymour, 
Duchess     of     Somerset),      176, 

317-19- 
Sheridan,  R.  B.,  102,  115,  147. 
Short,  Rev.  Thomas,  254. 
Shorthouse,  J.  H.,  85 
Shuckburgh,  Lady,  317-19. 
Sibthorp,  Colonel,  252. 
Siddons,  Mrs.,  19,  112. 
"Silly  Billy,"  175. 
Smith,  Eliza,  17. 

,,       Goldwin,  210. 

,,       Henry,  179-80. 

,,       Horace,  17. 


Smith,  Robert  (Lord  Carrington), 
192. 

,,       Rev.  Sydney,  19,  64, 66,  68, 
81,    129,    132,    141,    148, 
160,  164,  171,  204,  322. 
Somerset,  Duchess  of  (5^<;  Sheridan, 

Jane). 
Sou  they,  Robert,  251. 
Southwell,  Dr.  Ridding,  Bishop  of, 

236,  286. 
Sparke,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Ely,  69. 
Spencer,  Rev.  George,  160. 

Earl,  327. 
Stael,  Mme.  de,  95,  169. 
Stanley,  Dean,   124,   162-63,  254, 

297. 
Stephen,  J.  K.,  272. 
Stirling,  Sir  Walter,  16. 
Stowell,  Lord,  24. 
Stuart,    Prince    Charles    Edward, 

,,         Lady  Louisa,  14. 
Sturgis,  Julian,  181. 
Sumner,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 

67,69. 
Sussex,  Duke  of,  104,  210. 
Swinburne,  A.  C.,  265. 

Tait,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, 164,  169,  215. 

Talleyrand,  Prince,  72. 

Talmash,  Lady  Bridget,  91. 

Temple,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, 66. 

Tennyson,  Lord,  148,  166, .  255, 
260,  263,  265,  270. 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  57,  94,  99, 
146,  160,  187,  189,  211,  212, 
235,  244,  254. 

Thistlewood,  Arthur,  109. 

Thompson,  Dr.  (Master  of  Trinity), 
172. 

Thomson,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of 
York,  164. 

Thorold,    Dr.,     Bishop    of   Win- 
chester, 237,  313,  315, 
3i9»  322. 
„         Sir  John,  237. 


INDEX. 


381 


Tighe,  Lady  Louisa,  17,  64, 
,,       Mr.,  64. 

Trench,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Dub- 
lin, 289. 

Trevelyan,    Sir    George,    58,    96, 
145,  148-49,  227,  255-57. 

Trollope,  Anthony,  333. 

Turner,  Rev.  E.  T,,  254. 

Turton,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Ely,  300. 

Twysden,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Raphoe, 
87. 

Tyndall,  John,  264. 

Upward,  Allen,  201. 

Vaneck,  Mrs.,  61, 
Van  Mildert,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Dur- 
ham, 67. 
Vaughan,  Dean,  164,  228,  229. 
Venn,  Rev.  Henry,  90. 
Victoria,   Her  Majesty  Queen  {see 
under  Queen). 
,,         Princess  Royal,  307, 
Villiers,  C.  P.,  no,  141-42. 

Waldegrave,  Countess,  181. 
Wales,  Albert  Edward,  Prince  of, 
41,  203-4,  213,  307. 
„       Alexandra,      Princess     of, 

203-4,  222. 
,,       George,  Prince  of,  60-62. 
Walpole,  Horace,  76,  81. 
Wellington,  Duke  of,   17,   19,  23, 
24-26,  73,  81,  109-10,  122,  142, 
212,  321. 


Wensleydale,     Lord     (Sir     James 

Parke),  252. 
Wesley,  Rev.  Charles,  63,  90. 

„       Rev.  John,  63,  90. 
West,  Sir  Algernon,  156. 
Westbury,  Lord,  184, 
Westcotl,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Durham, 

165. 
Whately,  Dr.,  Archbishop  of  Dub- 
lin, 298. 
White,  Rev.  Henry,  167. 
Whitefield,   Rev.   George,  63,  74, 

90. 
Wilberforce,  Rev.  Basil,  169-70. 
„  Bishop,    12,    34,    S3, 

55,     82,    95,    129, 
150,  161,  162,  169, 
184-85,  211,  288. 
„  William,   73,  90,  93, 

169. 
Winchester,       Bishops       Sumner, 
Thorold,    and     Wilberforce,    of 
{see  those  headings). 
Woodford,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Ely,  69, 

293- 
Woods,  Rev.  Dr.,  172. 
Wordsworth,    William,     85,     139, 

272. 
Wyke,  Sir  Charles,  174. 
Wynn,  Miss,  198. 

YoRit,  Dr.   Harcourt,  Archbishop 
of,  68,  147. 
,,       Dr.  Thomson,  Archbishop 

of,  164. 
,,       Frederick,  Duke  of,  210. 
Young,  Arthur,  64. 


THE   END. 


^^5 


